STUDIES 

IN  THE 

SOUTH    AND    WEST 

WITH  COMMENTS  ON  CANADA 


BY 


CHARLES  DUDLEY  WANNER 

AUTHOR  OF  "THEIR  PILGRIMAGE"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   FRANKLIN    SQUARE 

1889 


Copyright,  1889,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


PEEFATOEY  NOTE. 


To  HENRY  M.  ALDEN,  Esq.,  Editor  of  HARPER'S  MONTHLY  : 

MY  DEAR  MR.  ALDEN,— It  was  at  your  suggestion  that  these 
Studies  were  undertaken ;  all  of  them  passed  under  your  eye, 
except  "Society  in  the  New  South,"  which  appeared  in  the 
New  Princeton  Renew.  The  object  was  not  to  present  a  com 
prehensive  account  of  the  country  South  and  West — which 
would  have  been  impossible  in  the  time  and  space  given — but 
to  note  certain  representative  developments,  tendencies,  and 
dispositions,  the  communication  of  which  would  lead  to  a  bet 
ter  understanding  between  different  sections.  The  subjects 
chosen  embrace  by  no  means  all  that  is  important  and  interest 
ing,  but  it  is  believed  that  they  are  fairly  representative.  The 
strongest  impression  produced  upon  the  writer  in  making  these 
Studies  was  that  the  prosperous  life  of  the  Union  depends  upon 
the  life  and  dignity  of  the  individual  States. 

C.  D.  W. 


M363154 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.    IMPRESSIONS  OP  THE  SOUTH.      IN  1885 3 

II.    SOCIETY  IN  THE  NEW  SOUTH 18 

III.  NEW  ORLEANS 39 

IV.  A  VOUDOO  DANCE 64 

V.    THE  ACADIAN  LAND 75 

VI.    THE   SOUTH  REVISITED.      IN   1887 99 

VII.   A  FAR  AND  FAIR  COUNTRY 118 

VIII.    ECONOMIC     AND     SOCIAL     TOPICS.       MINNESOTA     AND 

WISCONSIN 151 

IX.    CHICAGO— FIRST  PAPER 176 

X.   CHICAGO — SECOND  PAPER 202 

XI.    THREE   CAPITALS— SPRINGFIELD,  INDIANAPOLIS,  CO 
LUMBUS      233 

XII.    CINCINNATI  AND  LOUISVILLE 263 

XIII.  MEMPHIS  AND  LITTLE  ROCK 293 

XIV.  ST.  LOUIS  AND  KANSAS  CITY 318 

XV.   KENTUCKY    .  .   359 


COMMENTS  ON  CANADA 405 


SOUTH  AND  WEST. 


I. 

IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  SOUTH. 

IN  1885. 

IT  is  borne  in  upon  me,  as  the  Friends  would  say, 
that  I  ought  to  bear  my  testimony  of  certain  impres 
sions  made  by  a  recent  visit  to  the  Gulf  States.  In 
doing  this  I  am  aware  that  I  shall  be  under  the  suspi 
cion  of  having  received  kindness  and  hospitality,  and 
of  forming  opinions  upon  a  brief  sojourn.  Both  these 
facts  must  be  confessed,  and  allowed  their  due  weight 
in  discrediting  what  I  have  to  say.  A  month  of  my 
short  visit  was  given  to  New  Orleans  in  the  spring, 
during  the  Exposition,  and  these  impressions  are  main 
ly  of  Louisiana. 

The  first  general  impression  made  was  that  the  war 
is  over  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  deed.  The  thoughts  of 
the  people  are  not  upon  the  war,  not  much  upon  the 
past  at  all,  except  as  their  losses  remind  them  of  it, 
but  upon  the  future,  upon  business,  a  revival  of  trade, 
upon  education,  and  adjustment  to  the  new  state  of 
things.  The  thoughts  are  not  much  upon  politics  ei 
ther,  or  upon  offices  ;  certainly  they  are  not  turned 
more  in  this  direction  than  the  thoughts  of  people  at 
the  North  are.  When  we  read  a  despatch  which  de 
clares  that  there  is  immense  dissatisfaction  through 
out  Arkansas  because  offices  are  not  dealt  out  more 
liberally  to  it,  we  may  know  that  the  case  is  exactly 


4  South  and  West. 

what  it  is  in,  say,  Wisconsin  —  that  a  few  political 
managers  are  grumbling,  and  that  the  great  body  of 
the  people  are  indifferent,  perhaps  too  indifferent,  to 
the  distribution  of  offices. 

Undoubtedly  immense  satisfaction  was  felt  at  the 
election  of  Mr.  Cleveland,  and  elation  of  triumph  in 
the  belief  that  now  the  party  which  had  been  largely 
a  non- participant  in  Federal  affairs  would  have  a 
large  share  and  weight  in  the  administration.  With 
this  went,  however,  a  new  feeling  of  responsibility,  of 
a  stake  in  the  country,  that  manifested  itself  at  once 
in  attachment  to  the  Union  as  the  common  possession 
of  all  sections.  I  feel  sure  that  Louisiana,  for  in 
stance,  was  never  in  its  whole  history,  from  the  day 
of  the  Jefferson  purchase,  so  consciously  loyal  to  the 
United  States  as  it  is  to-day.  I  have  believed  that 
for  the  past  ten  years  there  has  been  growing  in  this 
country  a  stronger  feeling  of  nationality — a  distinct 
American  historic  consciousness  —  and  nowhere  else 
has  it  developed  so  rapidly  of  late  as  at  the  South.  I 
am  convinced  that  this  is  a  genuine  development  of 
attachment  to  the  Union  and  of  pride  in  the  nation, 
and  not  in  any  respect  a  political  movement  for  un 
worthy  purposes.  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  necessary,  for 
the  sake  of  any  lingering  prejudice  at  the  North,  to 
say  this.  But  it  is  time  that  sober,  thoughtful,  patri 
otic  people  at  the  North  should  quit  representing  the 
desire  for  office  at  the  South  as  a  desire  to  get  into 
the  Government  saddle  and  ride  again  with  a  "  rebel " 
impulse.  It  would  be,  indeed,  a  discouraging  fact  if 
any  considerable  portion  of  the  South  held  aloof  in 
sullenness  from  Federal  affairs.  Nor  is  it  any  just 
cause  either  of  reproach  or  of  uneasiness  that  men 


Impressions  of  the  South.  5 

who  were  prominent  in  the  war  of  the  rebellion  should 
be  prominent  now  in  official  positions,  for  with  a  few 
exceptions  the  worth  and  weight  of  the  South  went 
into  the  war.  It  would  be  idle  to  discuss  the  question 
whether  the  masses  of  the  South  were  not  dragooned 
into  the  war  by  the  politicians;  it  is  sufficient  to  rec 
ognize  the  fact  that  it  became  practically,  by  one 
means  or  another,  a  unanimous  revolt. 

One  of  the  strongest  impressions  made  upon  a 
Northerner  who  visits  the  extreme  South  now,  having 
been  familiar  with  it  only  by  report,  is  the  extent  to 
which  it  suffered  in  the  war.  Of  course  there  was 
extravagance  and  there  were  impending  bankruptcies 
before  the  war,  debt,  and  methods  of  business  inher 
ently  vicious,  and  no  doubt  the  war  is  charged  with 
many  losses  which  would  have  come  without  it,  just 
as  in  every  crisis  half  the  failures  wrongfully  accuse 
the  crisis.  Yet,  with  all  allowance  for  these  things, 
the  fact  remains  that  the  war  practically  wiped  out 
personal  property  and  the  means  of  livelihood.  The 
completeness  of  this  loss  and  disaster  never  came 
home  to  me  before.  In  some  cases  the  picture  of  the 
ante  helium  civilization  is  more  roseate  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  lost  everything  than  cool  observation  of 
it  would  justify.  But  conceding  this,  the  actual  dis 
aster  needs  no  embellishment  of  the  imagination.  It 
seems  to  me,  in  the  reverse,  that  the  Southern  people 
do  not  appreciate  the  sacrifices  the  North  made  for 
the  Union.  They  do  not,  I  think,  realize  the  fact  that 
the  North  put  into  the  war  its  best  blood,  that  every 
battle  brought  mourning  into  our  households,  and 
filled  our  churches  day  by  day  and  year  by  year  with 
the  black  garments  of  bereavement ;  nor  did  they 


6  South  and  West. 

ever  understand  the  tearful  enthusiasm  for  the  Union 
and  the  flag,  and  the  unselfish  devotion  that  underlay 
all  the  self-sacrifice.  Some  time  the  Southern  people 
will  know  that  it  was  love  for  the  Union,  and  not 
hatred  of  the  South,  that  made  heroes  of  the  men 
and  angels  of  renunciation  of  the  women. 

Yes,  say  our  Southern  friends,  we  can  believe  that 
you  lost  dear  ones  and  were  in  mourning;  but,  after 
all,  the  North  was  prosperous ;  you  grew  rich ;  and 
when  the  war  ended,  life  went  on  in  the  fulness  of 
material  prosperity.  We  lost  not  only  our  friends 
and  relatives,  fathers,  sons,  brothers,  till  there  was 
scarcely  a  household  that  was  not  broken  up,  we  lost 
not  only  the  cause  on  which  we  had  set  our  hearts, 
and  for  which  we  had  suffered  privation  and  hard 
ship,  were  fugitives  and  wanderers,  and  endured  the 
bitterness  of  defeat  at  the  end,  but  our  property  was 
gone,  we  were  stripped,  with  scarcely  a  home,  and  the 
whole  of  life  had  to  be  begun  over  again,  under  all 
the  disadvantage  of  a  sudden  social  revolution. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  upon  this  or  to  heighten 
it,  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  when  we  observe  the 
temper  of  the  South,  and  especially  when  we  are  look 
ing  for  remaining  bitterness,  and  the  wonder  to  me  is 
that  after  so  short  a  space  of  time  there  is  remaining 
so  little  of  resentment  or  of  bitter  feeling  over  loss 
and  discomfiture.  I  believe  there  is  not  in  history 
any  parallel  to  it.  Every  American  must  take  pride 
in  the  fact  that  Americans  have  so  risen  superior  to 
circumstances,  and  come  out  of  trials  that  thoroughly 
threshed  and  winnowed  soul  and  body  in  a  temper 
so  gentle  and  a  spirit  so  noble.  It  is  good  stuff  that 
can  endure  a  test  of  this  kind. 


Impressions  of  the  South.  7 

A  lady,  whose  family  sustained  all  the  losses  that 
were  possible  in  the  war,  said  to  me — and  she  said 
only  what  several  others  said  in  substance — "  We  are 
going  to  get  more  out  of  this  war  than  you  at  the 
North,  because  we  suffered  more.  We  were  drawn 
out  of  ourselves  in  sacrifices,  and  were  drawn  together 
in  a  tenderer  feeling  of  humanity ;  I  do  believe  we 
were  chastened  into  a  higher  and  purer  spirit." 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  The  people  who 
thus  recognize  the  moral  training  of  adversity  and  its 
effects  upon  character,  and  who  are  glad  that  slavery 
is  gone,  and  believe  that  a  new  and  better  era  for  the 
South  is  at  hand,  would  not  for  a  moment  put  them 
selves  in  an  attitude  of  apology  for  the  part  they  took 
in  the  war,  nor  confess  that  they  were  wrong,  nor  join 
in  any  denunciation  of  the  leaders  they  followed  to 
their  sorrow.  They  simply  put  the  past  behind  them, 
so  far  as  the  conduct  of  the  present  life  is  concerned. 
They  do  not  propose  to  stamp  upon  memories  that 
are  tender  and  sacred,  and  they  cherish  certain  senti 
ments  which  are  to  them  loyalty  to  their  past  and  to 
the  great  passionate  experiences  of  their  lives.  When 
a  woman,  who  enlisted  by  the  consent  of  Jeff  Davis, 
whose  name  appeared  for  four  years  upon  the  rolls, 
and  who  endured  all  the  perils  and  hardships  of  the 
conflict  as  a  field-nurse,  speaks  of  "  President "  Davis, 
what  does  it  mean?  It  is  only  a  sentiment.  This 
heroine  of  the  war  on  the  wrong  side  had  in  the  Ex 
position  a  tent,  where  the  veterans  of  the  Confederacy 
recorded  their  names.  On  one  side,  at  the  back  of 
the  tent,  was  a  table  piled  with  touching  relics  of  the 
war,  and  above  it  a  portrait  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  wreath 
ed  in  immortelles.  It  was  surely  a  harmless  shrine. 


8  South  and  West. 

On  the  other  side  was  also  a  table,  piled  with  fruit 
and  cereals — not  relics,  but  signs  of  prosperity  and 
peace — and  above  it  a  portrait  of  Ulysses  S.  Grant. 
Here  was  the  sentiment,  cherished  with  an  aching 
heart  maybe,  and  here  was  the  fact  of  the  Union  and 
the  future. 

Another  strong  impression  made  upon  the  visitor 
is,  as  I  said,  that  the  South  has  entirely  put  the  past 
behind  it,  and  is  devoting  itself  to  the  work  of  re 
building  on  new  foundations.  There  is  no  reluctance 
to  talk  about  the  war,  or  to  discuss  its  conduct  and 
what  might  have  been.  But  all  this  is  historic.  It 
engenders  no  heat.  The  mind  of  the  South  to-day  is 
on  the  development  of  its  resources,  upon  the  rehabili 
tation  of  its  affairs.  I  think  it  is  rather  more  con 
cerned  about  national  prosperity  than  it  is  about  the 
great  problem  of  the  negro — but  I  will  refer  to  this 
further  on.  There  goes  with  this  interest  in  material 
development  the  same  interest  in  the  general  prosper 
ity  of  the  country  that  exists  at  the  North — the  anx 
iety  that  the  country  should  prosper,  acquit  itself 
well,  and  stand  well  with  the  other  nations.  There 
is,  of  course,  a  sectional  feeling — as  to  tariff,  as  to  in 
ternal  improvements — but  I  do  not  think  the  Southern 
States  are  any  more  anxious  to  get  things  for  them 
selves  out  of  the  Federal  Government  than  the  North 
ern  States  are.  That  the  most  extreme  of  Southern 
politicians  have  any  sinister  purpose  (any  more  than 
any  of  the  Northern  "  rings  "  on  either  side  have)  in 
wanting  to  "rule"  the  country,  is,  in  my  humble  opin 
ion,  only  a  chimera  evoked  to  make  political  capital. 

Illustrations  in  point  as  to  the  absolute  subsidence 
of  hostile  intention  (this  phrase  I  know  will  sound 


Impressions  of  the  South.  9 

queer  in  the  South),  and  the  laying  aside  of  bitterness 
for  the  past,  are  not  necessary  in  the  presence  of  a 
strong  general  impression,  but  they  might  be  given  in 
great  number.  I  note  one  that  was  significant  from 
its  origin,  remembering,  what  is  well  known,  that 
women  and  clergymen  are  always  the  last  to  experi 
ence  subsidence  of  hostile  feeling  after  a  civil  war. 
On  the  Confederate  Decoration  Day  in  New  Orleans 
I  was  standing  near  the  Confederate  monument  in 
one  of  the  cemeteries  when  the  veterans  marched  in 
to  decorate  it.  First  came  the  veterans  of  the  Army 
of  Virginia,  last  those  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  and 
between  them  the  veterans  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the 
Republic,  Union  soldiers  now  living  in  Louisiana.  I 
stood  beside  a  lady  whose  name,  if  I  mentioned  it, 
would  be  recognized  as  representative  of  a  family 
which  was  as  conspicuous,  and  did  as  much  and  lost 
as  much,  as  any  other  in  the  war — a  family  that  would 
be  popularly  supposed  to  cherish  unrelenting  feelings. 
As  the  veterans,  some  of  them  on  crutches,  many  of 
them  with  empty  sleeves,  grouped  themselves  about 
the  monument,  we  remarked  upon  the  sight  as  a 
touching  one,  and  I  said:  "I  see  you  have  no  address 
on  Decoration  Day.  At  the  North  we  still  keep  up 
the  custom."  "No,"  she  replied;  "we  have  given  it 
up.  So  many  imprudent  things  were  said  that  we 
thought  best  to  discontinue  the  address."  And  then, 
after  a  pause,  she  added,  thoughtfully:  "Each  side  did 
the  best  it  could  ;  it  is  all  over  and  done  with,  and 
let's  have  an  end  of  it."  In  the  mouth  of  the  lady 
who  uttered  it,  the  remark  was  very  significant,  but 
it  expresses,  I  am  firmly  convinced,  the  feeling  of  the 
South. 


10  South  and  West. 

Of  course  the  South  will  build  monuments  to  its 
heroes,  and  weep  over  their  graves,  and  live  upon  the 
memory  of  their  devotion  and  genius.  In  Heaven's 
name,  why  shouldn't  it  ?  Is  human  nature  itself  to 
be  changed  in  twenty  years  ? 

A  long  chapter  might  be  written  upon  the  dis-like- 
ness  of  North  and  South,  the  difference  in  education, 
in  training,  in  mental  inheritances,  the  misapprehen 
sions,  radical  and  very  singular  to  us,  of  the  civiliza 
tion  of  the  North.  We  must  recognize  certain  historic 
facts,  not  only  the  eifect  of  the  institution  of  slavery, 
but  other  facts  in  Southern  development.  Suppose 
we  say  that  an  unreasonable  prejudice  exists,  or  did 
exist,  about  the  people  of  the  North.  That  prejudice 
is  a  historic  fact,  of  which  the  statesman  must  take 
account.  It  enters  into  the  question  of  the  time 
needed  to  effect  the  revolution  now  in  progress. 
There  are  prejudices  in  the  North  about  the  South  as 
well.  We  admit  their  existence.  But  what  impresses 
me  is  the  rapidity  with  which  they  are  disappearing 
in  the  South.  Knowing  what  human  nature  is,  it 
seems  incredible  that  they  could  have  subsided  so 
rapidly.  Enough  remain  for  national  variety,  and 
enough  will  remain  for  purposes  of  social  badinage, 
but  common  interests  in  the  country  and  in  making 
money  are  melting  them  away  very  fast.  So  far  as 
loyalty  to  the  Government  is  concerned,  I  am  not 
authorized  to  say  that  it  is  as  deeply  rooted  in  the 
South  as  in  the  North,  but  it  is  expressed  as  vividly, 
and  felt  with  a  good  deal  of  fresh  enthusiasm.  The 
"American"  sentiment,  pride  in  this  as  the  most 
glorious  of  all  lands,  is  genuine,  and  amounts  to  en 
thusiasm  with  many  who  would  in  an  argument  glory 


Impressions  of  the  South.  11 

in  their  rebellion.  "We  had  more  loyalty  to  our 
States  than  you  had,"  said  one  lady,  "  and  we  have 
transferred  it  to  the  whole  country." 

But  the  negro  ?  Granting  that  the  South  is  loyal 
enough,  wishes  never  another  rebellion,  and  is  satisfied 
to  be  rid  of  slavery,  do  not  the  people  intend  to  keep 
the  negroes  practically  a  servile  class,  slaves  in  all  but 
the  name,  and  to  defeat  by  chicanery  or  by  force  the 
legitimate  results  of  the  war  and  of  enfranchisement  ? 
This  is  a  very  large  question,  and  cannot  be  discussed 
in  my  limits.  If  I  were  to  say  what  my  impression  is, 
it  would  be  about  this  :  the  South  is  quite  as  much 
perplexed  by  the  negro  problem  as  the  North  is,  and 
is  very  much  disposed  to  await  developments,  and  to 
let  time  solve  it.  One  thing,  however,  must  be  ad 
mitted  in  all  this  discussion.  The  Southerners  will 
not  permit  such  Legislatures  as  those  assembled  once 
in  Louisiana  and  South  Carolina  to  rule  them  again. 
"  Will  you  disfranchise  the  blacks  by  management  or 
by  force  ?"  "  Well,  what  would  you  do  in  Ohio  or  in 
Connecticut  ?  Would  you  be  ruled  by  a  lot  of  igno 
rant  field-hands  allied  with  a  gang  of  plunderers  ?" 

In  looking  at  this  question  from  a  Northern  point 
of  view  we  have  to  keep  in  mind  two  things  :  first, 
the  Federal  Government  imposed  colored  suffrage 
without  any  educational  qualification  —  a  hazardous 
experiment ;  in  the  second  place,  it  has  handed  over 
the  control  of  the  colored  people  in  each  State  to 
the  State,  under  the  Constitution,  as  completely  in 
Louisiana  as  in  New  York.  The  responsibility  is  on 
Louisiana.  The  North  cannot  relieve  her  of  it,  and 
it  cannot  interfere,  except  by  ways  provided  in  the 
Constitution.  In  the  South,  where  fear  of  a  legislative 


12  South  and  West. 

domination  has  gone,  the  feeling  between  the  two 
races  is  that  of  amity  and  mutual  help.  This  is,  I 
think,  especially  true  in  Louisiana.  The  Southerners 
never  have  forgotten  the  loyalty  of  the  slaves  during 
the  war,  the  security  with  which  the  white  families 
dwelt  in  the  midst  of  a  black  population  while  all  the 
white  men  were  absent  in  the  field  ;  they  often  refer 
to  this.  It  touches  with  tenderness  the  new  relation 
of  the  races.  I  think  there  is  generally  in  the  South 
a  feeling  of  good-will  towards  the  negroes,  a  desire 
that  they  should  develop  into  true  manhood  and 
womanhood.  Undeniably  there  are  indifference  and 
neglect  and  some  remaining  suspicion  about  the 
schools  that  Northern  charity  has  organized  for  the 
negroes.  As  to  this  neglect  of  the  negro,  two  things 
are  to  be  said:  the  whole  subject  of  education  (as  wre 
have  understood  it  in  the  North)  is  comparatively  new 
in  the  South  ;  and  the  necessity  of  earning  a  living 
since  the  war  has  distracted  attention  from  it.  But 
the  general  development  of  education  is  quite  as  ad 
vanced  as  could  be  expected.  The  thoughtful  and 
the  leaders  of  opinion  are  fully  awake  to  the  fact  that 
the  mass  of  the  people  must  be  educated,  and  that  the 
only  settlement  of  the  negro  problem  is  in  the  educa 
tion  of  the  negro,  intellectually  and  morally.  They 
go  further  than  this.  They  say  that  for  the  South  to 
hold  its  own — since  the  negro  is  there  and  will  stay 
there,  and  is  the  majority  of  the  laboring  class — it  is 
necessary  that  the  great  agricultural  mass  of  unskilled 
labor  should  be  transformed,  to  a  great  extent,  into 
a  class  of  skilled  labor,  skilled  on  the  farm,  in 
shops,  in  factories,  and  that  the  South  must  have  a 
highly  diversified  industry.  To  this  end  they  want 


Impressions  of  the  South.  13 

industrial  as  well  as  ordinary  schools  for  the  colored 
people. 

It  is  believed  that,  with  this  education  and  with 
diversified  industry,  the  social  question  will  settle  it 
self,  as  it  does  the  world  over.  Society  cannot  be 
made  or  unmade  by  legislation.  In  New  Orleans  the 
street-cars  are  free  to  all  colors  ;  at  the  Exposition 
white  and  colored  people  mingled  freely,  talking  and 
looking  at  what  was  of  common  interest. 

We  who  live  in  States  where  hotel-keepers  exclude 
Hebrews  cannot  say  much  about  the  exclusion  of 
negroes  from  Southern  hotels.  There  are  prejudices 
remaining.  There  are  cases  of  hardship  on  the  rail 
ways,  where  for  the  same  charge  perfectly  respectable 
and  nearly  white  women  are  shut  out  of  cars  while 
there  is  no  discrimination  against  dirty  and  disagree 
able  white  people.  In  time  all  this  will  doubtless  rest 
upon  the  basis  it  rests  on  at  the  North,  and  social  life 
will  take  care  of  itself.  It  is  my  impression  that  the 
negroes  are  no  more  desirous  to  mingle  socially  with 
the  whites  than  the  whites  are  with  the  negroes. 
Among  the  negroes  there  are  social  grades  as  distinct 
ly  marked  as  in  white  society.  What  will  be  the 
final  outcome  of  the  juxtaposition  nobody  can  tell; 
meantime  it  must  be  recorded  that  good-will  exists 
between  the  races. 

I  had  one  day  at  the  Exposition  an  interesting  talk 
with  the  colored  woman  in  charge  of  the  Alabama 
section  of  the  exhibit  of  the  colored  people.  This 
exhibit,  made  by  States,  was  suggested  and  promoted 
by  Major  Burke  in  order  to  show  the  whites  what  the 
colored  people  could  do,  and  as  a  stimulus  to  the  lat 
ter.  There  was  not  much  time — only  two  or  three 


Itk  South  and  West. 

months — in  which  to  prepare  the  exhibit,  and  it  was 
hardly  a  fair  showing  of  the  capacity  of  the  colored 
people.  The  work  was  mainly  women's  work — em 
broidery,  sewing,  household  stuffs,  with  a  little  of  the 
handiwork  of  artisans,  and  an  exhibit  of  the  progress 
in  education ;  but  small  as  it  was,  it  was  wonderful 
as  the  result  of  only  a  few  years  of  freedom.  The 
Alabama  exhibit  was  largely  from  Mobile,  and  was 
due  to  the  energy,  executive  ability,  and  taste  of  the 
commissioner  in  charge.  She  was  a  quadroon,  a  wid 
ow,  a  woman  of  character  and  uncommon  mental  and 
moral  quality.  She  talked  exceedingly  well,  and  with 
a  practical  good-sense  which  would  be  notable  in  any 
body.  In  the  course  of  our  conversation  the  whole 
social  and  political  question  was  gone  over.  Herself 
a  person  of  light  color,  and  with  a  confirmed  social 
prejudice  against  black  people,  she  thoroughly  identi 
fied  herself  with  the  colored  race,  and  it  was  evident 
that  her  sympathies  were  with  them.  She  confirmed 
what  I  had  heard  of  the  social  grades  among  colored 
people,  but  her  whole  soul  was  in  the  elevation  of  her 
race  as  a  race,  inclining  always  to  their  side,  but  with 
no  trace  of  hostility  to  the  whites.  Many  of  her  best 
friends  were  whites,  and  perhaps  the  most  valuable 
part  of  her  education  was  acquired  in  families  of  so 
cial  distinction.  "I  can  illustrate,"  she  said,  "the 
state  of  feeling  between  the  two  races  in  Mobile  by 
an  incident  last  summer.  There  was  an  election  com 
ing  off  in  the  City  Government,  and  I  knew  that  the 
reformers  wanted  and  needed  the  colored  vote.  I 
went,  therefore,  to  some  of  the  chief  men,  who  knew 
me  and  had  confidence  in  me,  for  I  had  had  business 
relations  with  many  of  them  [she  had  kept  a  fashion- 


Impressions  of  the  South.  15 

able  boarding-house],  and  told  them  that  I  wanted  the 
Opera-house  for  the  colored  people  to  give  an  enter 
tainment  and  exhibition  in.  The  request  was  extraor 
dinary.  Nobody  but  white  people  had  ever  been  ad 
mitted  to  the  Opera-house.  But,  after  some  hesitation 
and  consultation,  the  request  was  granted.  We  gave 
the  exhibition,  and  the  white  people  all  attended.  It 
was  really  a  beautiful  affair,  lovely  tableaux,  with 
gorgeous  dresses,  recitations,  etc.,  and  everybody  was 
astonished  that  the  colored  people  had  so  much  taste 
and  talent,  and  had  got  on  so  far  in  education.  They 
said  they  were  delighted  and  surprised,  and  they  liked 
it  so  well  that  they  wanted  the  entertainment  repeated 
— it  Avas  given  for  one  of  our  charities — but  I  was  too 
wise  for  that.  I  didn't  want  to  run  the  chance  of  de 
stroying  the  impression  by  repeating,  and  I  said  we 
would  wait  a  while,  and  then  show  them  something 
better.  Well,  the  election  came  off  in  August,  and 
everything  went  all  right,  and  now  the  colored  people 
in  Mobile  can  have  anything  they  want.  There  is  the 
best  feeling  between  the  races.  I  tell  you  we  should 
get  on  beautifully  if  the  politicians  would  let  us  alone. 
It  is  politics  that  has  made  all  the  trouble  in  Alabama 
and  in  Mobile."  And  I  learned  that  in  Mobile,  as  in 
many  other  places,  the  negroes  were  put  in  minor  offi 
cial  positions,  the  duties  of  which  they  were  capable 
of  discharging,  and  had  places  in  the  police. 

On  "  Louisiana  Day  "  in  the  Exposition  the  colored 
citizens  took  their  full  share  of  the  parade  and  the 
honors.  Their  societies  marched  with  the  others,  and 
the  races  mingled  on  the  grounds  in  unconscious  equal 
ity  of  privileges.  Speeches  were  made,  glorifying  the 
State  and  its  history,  by  able  speakers,  the  Governor 


16  South  and  West. 

among  them;  but  it  was  the  testimony  of  Democrats 
of  undoubted  Southern  orthodoxy  that  the  honors  of 
the  day  were  carried  off  by  a  colored  clergyman,  an 
educated  man,  who  united  eloquence  with  excellent 
good-sense,  and  who  spoke  as  a  citizen  of  Louisiana, 
proud  of  his  native  State,  dwelling  with  richness  of 
allusion  upon  its  history.  It  was  a  perfectly  manly 
speech  in  the  assertion  of  the  rights  and  the  position 
of  his  race,  and  it  breathed  throughout  the  same  spirit 
of  good-will  and  amity  in  a  common  hope  of  progress 
that  characterized  the  talk  of  the  colored  woman  com 
missioner  of  Mobile.  It  was  warmly  applauded,  and 
accepted,  so  far  as  I  heard,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

No  one,  however,  can  see  the  mass  of  colored  peo 
ple  in  the  cities  and  on  the  plantations,  the  ignorant 
mass,  slowly  coming  to  moral  consciousness,  without 
a  recognition  of  the  magnitude  of  the  negro  problem. 
I  am  glad  that  my  State  has  not  the  practical  settle 
ment  of  it,  and  I  cannot  do  less  than  express  profound 
sympathy  with  the  people  who  have.  They  inherit 
the  most  difficult  task  now  anywhere  visible  in  human 
progress.  They  will  make  mistakes,  and  they  will  do 
injustice  now  and  then ;  but  one  feels  like  turning 
away  from  these,  and  thanking  God  for  what  they 
do  well. 

There  are  many  encouraging  things  in  the  condi 
tion  of  the  negro.  Good-will,  generally,  among  the 
people  where  he  lives  is  one  thing;  their  tolerance  of 
his  weaknesses  and  failings  is  another.  He  is  him 
self,  here  and  there,  making  heroic  sacrifices  to  obtain 
an  education.  There  are  negro  mothers  earning  mon 
ey  at  the  wash-tub  to  keep  their  boys  at  school  and 
in  college.  In  the  South-west  there  is  such  a  call  for 


Impressions  of  the  South.  IT 

colored  teachers  that  the  Straight  University  in  New 
Orleans,  which  has  about  five  hundred  pupils,  cannot 
begin  to  supply  the  demand,  although  the  teachers, 
male  and  female,  are  paid  from  thirty-five  to  fifty 
dollars  a  month.  A  colored  graduate  of  this  school  a 
year  ago  is  now  superintendent  of  the  colored  schools 
in  Memphis,  at  a  salary  of  $1200  a  year. 

Are  these  exceptional  cases  ?  Well,  I  suppose  it  is 
also  exceptional  to  see  a  colored  clergyman  in  his  sur 
plice  seated  in  the  chancel  of  the  most  important  white 
Episcopal  church  in  New  Orleans,  assisting  in  the 
service;  but  it  is  significant.  There  are  many  good 
auguries  to  be  drawn  from  the  improved  condition  of 
the  negroes  on  the  plantations,  the  more  rational  and 
less  emotional  character  of  their  religious  services, 
and  the  hold  of  the  temperance  movement  on  all 
classes  in  the  country  places. 
2 


II. 

SOCIETY  IN  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

THE  American  Revolution  made  less  social  change 
in  the  South  than  in  the  North.  Under  conservative 
influences  the  South  developed  her  social  life  with 
little  alteration  in  form  and  spirit — allowing  for  the 
decay  that  always  attends  conservatism — down  to  the 
Civil  War.  The  social  revolution  which  was  in  fact 
accomplished  contemporaneously  with  the  political 
severance  from  Great  Britain,  in  the  North,  was  not 
effected  in  the  South  until  Lee  offered  his  sword  to 
Grant,  and  Grant  told  him  to  keep  it  and  beat  it  into 
a  ploughshare.  The  change  had  indeed  been  inevita 
ble,  and  ripening  for  four  years,  but  it  was  at  that 
moment  universally  recognized.  Impossible,  of  course, 
except  by  the  removal  of  slavery,  it  is  not  wholly  ac 
counted  for  by  the  removal  of  slavery  ;  it  results  also 
from  an  economical  and  political  revolution,  and  from 
a  total  alteration  of  the  relations  of  the  South  to  the 
rest  of  the  world.  The  story  of  this  social  change 
will  be  one  of  the  most  marvellous  the  historian  has 
to  deal  with. 

Provincial  is  a  comparative  term.  All  England  is 
provincial  to  the  Londoner,  all  America  to  the  Eng 
lishman.  Perhaps  New  York  looks  upon  Philadelphia 
as  provincial ;  and  if  Chicago  is  forced  to  admit  that 
Boston  resembles  ancient  Athens,  then  Athens,  by  the 
Chicago  standard,  must  have  been  a  very  provincial 


Society  in  the  New  South.  19 

city.  The  root  of  provincialism  is  localism,  or  a  con 
dition  of  being  on  one  side  and  apart  from  the  gen- 
feral  movement  of  contemporary  life.  In  this  sense, 
and  compared  with  the  North  in  its  absolute  openness 
to  every  wind  from  all  parts  of  the  globe,  the  South 
was  provincial.  Provincialism  may  have  its  decided 
advantages,  and  it  may  nurture  many  superior  virtues 
and  produce  a  social  state  that  is  as  charming  as  it  is 
interesting,  but  along  with  it  goes  a  certain  self-ap 
preciation,  which  ultracosmopolitan  critics  would  call 
Concord-like,  that  seems  exaggerated  to  outsiders. 

The  South,  and  notably  Virginia  and  South  Caro 
lina,  cherished  English  traditions  long  after  the  politi 
cal  relation  was  severed.  But  it  kept  the  traditions 
of  the  time  of  the  separation,  and  did  not  share  the 
literary  and  political  evolution  of  England.  Slavery 
divided  it  from  the  North  in  sympathy,  and  slavery, 
by  excluding  European  emigration,  shut  out  the  South 
from  the  influence  of  the  new  ideas  germinating  in 
Europe.  It  was  not  exactly  true  to  say  that  the  li 
brary  of  the  Southern  gentleman  stopped  with  the 
publications  current  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Third, 
but,  well  stocked  as  it  was  with  the  classics  and  with 
the  English  literature  become  classic,  it  was  not  likely 
to  contain  much  of  later  date  than  the  Reform  Bill 
in  England  and  the  beginning  of  the  abolition  move 
ment  in  the  North.  The  pages  of  De  Jlow's  Review 
attest  the  ambition  and  direction  of  Southern  scholar 
ship — a  scholarship  not  much  troubled  by  the  new 
problems  that  were  at  the  time  rending  England  and 
the  North.  The  young  men  who  still  went  abroad  to 
be  educated  brought  back  with  them  the  traditions 
and  flavor  of  the  old  England  and  not  the  spirit  of 


20  South  and  West. 

the  new,  the  traditions  of  the  universities  and  not  the 
new  life  of  research  and  doubt  in  them.  The  con 
servatism  of  the  Southern  life  was  so  strong  that  the 
students  at  Northern  colleges  returned  unchanged  by 
contact  with  a  different  civilization.  The  South  met 
the  North  in  business  and  in  politics,  and  in  a  limited 
social  intercourse,  but  from  one  cause  and  another  for 
three-quarters  of  a  century  it  was  practically  isolated, 
and  consequently  developed  a  peculiar  social  life. 

One  result  of  this  isolation  was  that  the  South  was 
more  homogeneous  than  the  North,  and  perhaps  more 
distinctly  American  in  its  characteristics.  This  was 
to  be  expected,  since  it  had  one  common  and  over 
mastering  interest  in  slavery,  had  little  foreign  ad 
mixture,  and  was  removed  from  the  currents  of  com 
merce  and  the  disturbing  ideas  of  Reform.  The 
South,  so  far  as  society  was  concerned,  was  an  agri 
cultural  aristocracy,  based  upon  a  perfectly  denned 
lowest  class  in  the  slaves,  and  holding  all  trade,  com 
merce,  and  industrial  and  mechanical  pursuits  in  true 
mediaeval  contempt.  Its  literature  was  monarchical, 
tempered  by  some  Jeffersonian,  doctrinaire  notions  of 
the  rights  of  man,  which  were  satisfied,  however,  by 
an  insistence  upon  the  sovereignty  of  the  States,  and 
by  equal  privileges  to  a  certain  social  order  in  each 
State.  Looked  at,  then,  from  the  outside,  the  South 
appeared  to  be  homogeneous,  but  from  its  own  point 
of  view,  socially,  it  was  not  at  all  so.  Social  life  in 
these  jealously  independent  States  developed  almost 
as  freely  and  variously  as  it  did  in  the  Middle  Ages 
in  the  free  cities  of  Italy.  Virginia  was  not  at  all 
like  South  Carolina  (except  in  one  common  interest), 
and  Louisiana — especially  in  its  centre,  New  Orleans 


Society  in  the  New  South.  21 

— more  cosmopolitan  than  any  other  part  of  the  South 
by  reason  of  its  foreign  elements,  more  closely  always 
in  sympathy  with  Paris  than  with  New  York  or  Bos 
ton,  was  widely,  in  its  social  life,  separated  from  its 
sisters.  Indeed,  in  early  days,  before  the  slavery  agi 
tation,  there  was,  owing  to  the  heritage  of  English 
traditions,  more  in  common  between  Boston  and 
Charleston  than  between  New  Orleans  and  Charles 
ton.  And  later,  there  was  a  marked  social  difference 
between  towns  and  cities  near  together — as,  for  in 
stance,  between  agricultural  Lexington  and  commer 
cial  Louisville,  in  Kentucky. 

The  historian  who  writes  the  social  life  of  the 
Southern  States  will  be  embarrassed  with  romantic 
and  picturesque  material.  Nowhere  else  in  this  level 
ling  age  will  he  find  a  community  developing  so  much 
of  the  dramatic,  so  much  splendor  and  such  pathetic 
contrasts  in  the  highest  social  cultivation,  as  in  the 
plantation  and  city  life  of  South  Carolina.  Already, 
in  regarding  it,  it  assumes  an  air  of  unreality,  and 
vanishes  in  its  strong  lights  and  heavy  shades  like  a 
dream  of  the  chivalric  age.  An  allusion  to  its  char 
acter  is  sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  this  paper.  Per 
sons  are  still  alive  who  saw  the  prodigal  style  of  living 
and  the  reckless  hospitality  of  the  planters  in  those 
days,  when  in  the  Charleston  and  Sea  Island  mansions 
the  guests  constantly  entertained  were  only  outnum 
bered  by  the  swarms  of  servants;  when  it  was  not 
incongruous  and  scarcely  ostentatious  that  the  courtly 
company,  which  had  the  fine  and  free  manner  of  an 
other  age,  should  dine  off  gold  and  silver  plate ;  and 
when  all  that  wealth  and  luxury  could  suggest  was 
lavished  in  a  princely  magnificence  that  was  almost 


22  South  and  West. 

barbaric  in  its  profusion.  The  young  men  were  edu 
cated  in  England ;  the  young  women  were  reared  like 
helpless  princesses,  with  a  servant  for  every  want  and 
whim ;  it  was  a  day  of  elegant  accomplishments  and 
deferential  manners,  but  the  men  gamed  like  Fox  and 
drank  like  Sheridan,  and  the  duel  was  the  ordinary 
arbiter  of  any  difference  of  opinion  or  of  any  point  of 
honor.  Not  even  slavery  itself  could  support  exist 
ence  on  such  a  scale,  and  even  before  the  war  it  be 
gan  to  give  way  to  the  conditions  of  our  modern  life. 
And  now  that  old  peculiar  civilization  of  South  Caro 
lina  belongs  to  romance.  It  can  never  be  repeated, 
even  by  the  aid  of  such  gigantic  fortunes  as  are  now 
accumulating  in  the  North. 

The  agricultural  life  of  Virginia  appeals  with 
scarcely  less  attraction  to  the  imagination  of  the 
novelist.  Mr.  Thackeray  caught  the  flavor  of  it  in 
his  " Virginians"  from  an  actual  study  of  it  in  the  old 
houses,  when  it  was  becoming  a  faded  memory.  The 
vast  estates — principalities  in  size — with  troops  of 
slaves  attached  to  each  plantation;  the  hospitality, 
less  costly,  but  as  free  as  that  of  South  Carolina ;  the 
land  in  the  hands  of  a  few  people ;  politics  and  society 
controlled  by  a  small  number  of  historic  families,  in 
termarried  until  all  Virginians  of  a  certain  grade  were 
related — all  this  forms  a  picture  as  feudal-like  and 
foreign  to  this  age  as  can  be  imagined.  The  writer 
recently  read  the  will  of  a  country  gentleman  of  the 
last  century  in  Virginia,  which  raises  a  distinct  image 
of  the  landed  aristocracy  of  the  time.  It  devised  his 
plantation  of  six  thousand  acres  with  its  slaves  at 
tached,  his  plantation  of  eighteen  hundred  acres  and 
slaves,  his  plantation  of  twelve  hundred  acres  and 


Society  in  the  New  South.  23 

slaves,  with  other  farms  and  outlying  property  ;  it 
mentioned  all  the  cattle,  sheep,  and  hogs,  the  riding- 
horses  in  stables,  the  racing-steeds,  the  several  coach 
es  with  the  six  horses  that  drew  them  (an  acknowl 
edgment  of  the  wretched  state  of  the  roads),  and  so 
on  in  all  the  details  of  a  vast  domain.  All  the  slaves 
are  called  by  name,  all  the  farming  implements  were 
enumerated,  and  all  the  homely  articles  of  furniture 
down  to  the  beds  and  kitchen  utensils.  This  whole 
structure  of  a  unique  civilization  is  practically  swept 
away  now,  and  with  it  the  peculiar  social  life  it  pro 
duced.  Let  us  pause  a  moment  upon  a  few  details  of 
it,  as  it  had  its  highest  development  in  Eastern  Vir 
ginia. 

The  family  was  the  fetich.  In  this  high  social  caste 
the  estates  were  entailed  to  the  limit  of  the  law,  for 
one  generation,  and  this  entail  was  commonly  relig 
iously  renewed  by  the  heir.  It  was  not  expected  that 
a  widow  would  remarry  ;  as  a  rule  she  did  not,  and 
it  was  almost  a  matter  of  course  that  the  will  of  the 
husband  should  make  the  enjoyment  of  even  the  en 
tailed  estate  dependent  upon  the  non-marriage  of  the 
widow.  These  prohibitions  upon  her  freedom  of 
choice  were  not  considered  singular  or  cruel  in  a 
society  whose  chief  gospel  was  the  preservation  of 
the  family  name. 

The  planters  lived  more  simply  than  the  great  sea 
board  planters  of  South  Carolina  and  Georgia,  with 
not  less  pride,  but  with  less  ostentation  and  show. 
The  houses  were  of  the  accepted  colonial  pattern, 
square,  with  four  rooms  on  a  floor,  but  with  wide 
galleries  (wherein  they  differed  from  the  colonial 
houses  in  New  England),  and  sometimes  with  addi- 


2±  South  and  West. 

tions  in  the  way  of  offices  and  lodging-rooms.  The 
furniture  was  very  simple  and  plain — a  few  hundred 
dollars  would  cover  the  cost  of  it  in  most  mansions. 
There  were  not  in  all  Virginia  more  than  two  or 
three  magnificent  houses.  It  was  the  taste  of  gen 
tlemen  to  adorn  the  ground  in  front  of  the  house 
with  evergreens,  with  the  locust  and  acanthus,  and 
perhaps  the  maple-trees  not  native  to  the  spot.;  while 
the  oak,  which  is  nowhere  more  stately  and  noble 
than  in  Virginia,  was  never  seen  on  the  lawn  or  the 
drive-way,  but  might  be  found  about  the  "quarters," 
or  in  an  adjacent  forest  park.  As  the  interior  of  the 
houses  was  plain,  so  the  taste  of  the  people  was  sim 
ple  in  the  matter  of  ornament — jewellery  was  very 
little  worn  ;  in  fact,  it  is  almost  literally  true  that 
there  were  in  Virginia  no  family  jewels. 

So  thoroughly  did  this  society  believe  in  itself  and 
keep  to  its  traditions  that  the  young  gentleman  of  the 
house,  educated  in  England,  brought  on  his  return 
nothing  foreign  home  with  him — no  foreign  tastes,  no 
bric-a-brac  for  his  home,  and  never  a  foreign  wife. 
He  came  back  unchanged,  and  married  the  cousin  he 
met  at  the  first  country  dance  he  went  to. 

The  pride  of  the  people,  which  was  intense,  did  not 
manifest  itself  in  ways  that  are  common  elsewhere — 
it  was  sufficient  to  itself  in  its  own  homespun  inde 
pendence.  What  would  make  one  distinguished  else 
where  was  powerless  here.  Literary  talent,  and  even 
acquired  wealth,  gave  no  distinction ;  aside  from  fam 
ily  and  membership  of  the  caste,  nothing  gave  it  to 
any  native  or  visitor.  There  was  no  lion-hunting,  no 
desire  whatever  to  attract  the  attention  of,  or  to  pay 
any  deference  to,  men  of  letters.  If  a  member  of  so- 


Society  in  the  New  South.  25 

ciety  happened  to  be  distinguished  in  letters  or  in 
scholarship,  it  made  not  the  slightest  difference  in  his 
social  appreciation.  There  was  absolutely  no  encour 
agement  for  men  of  letters,  and  consequently  there 
was  no  literary  class  and  little  literature.  There  was 
only  one  thing  that  gave  a  man  any  distinction  in  this 
society,  except  a  long  pedigree,  and  that  was  the  tal 
ent  of  oratory — that  was  prized,  for  that  was  con 
nected  with  prestige  in  the  State  and  the  politics  of 
the  dominant  class.  The  planters  took  few  newspa 
pers,  and  read  those  few  very  little.  They  were  a 
fox-hunting,  convivial  race,  generally  Whig  in  poli 
tics,  always  orthodox  in  religion.  The  man  of  culti 
vation  was  rare,  and,  if  he  was  cultivated,  it  was  usu 
ally  only  on  a  single  subject.  But  the  planter  might 
be  an  astute  politician,  and  a  man  of  wide  knowledge 
and  influence  in  public  affairs.  There  was  one  thing, 
however,  that  was  held  in  almost  equal  value  with 
pedigree,  and  that  was  female  beauty.  There  was  al 
ways  the  recognized  "  belle,"  the  beauty  of  the  day, 
who  was  the  toast  and  the  theme  of  talk,  whose  mem 
ory  was  always  green  with  her  chivalrous  contempo 
raries  ;  the  veterans  liked  to  recall  over  the  old  Ma 
deira  the  wit  and  charms  of  the  raving  beauties  who 
had  long  gone  the  way  of  the  famous  vintages  of  the 
cellar. 

The  position  of  the  clergyman  in  the  Episcopal 
Church  was  very  much  what  his  position  was  in  Eng 
land  in  the  time  of  James  II.  He  was  patronized  and 
paid  like  any  other  adjunct  of  a  well-ordered  society. 
If  he  did  not  satisfy  his  masters  he  was  quietly  in 
formed  that  he  could  probably  be  more  useful  else 
where.  If  he  was  acceptable,  one  element  of  his  pop- 


26  South  and  West. 

ularity  was  that  he  rode  to  hounds  and  could  tell  a 
good  story  over  the  wine  at  dinner. 

The  pride  of  this  society  preserved  itself  in  a  cer 
tain  high,  chivalrous  state.  If  any  of  its  members 
were  poor,  as  most  of  them  became  after  the  war, 
they  took  a  certain  pride  in  their  poverty.  They  were 
too  proud  to  enter  into  a  vulgar  struggle  to  be  other 
wise,  and  they  were  too  old  to  learn  the  habit  of  labor. 
No  such  thing  was  known  in  it  as  scandal.  If  any 
breach  of  morals  occurred,  it  was  apt  to  be  acknowl 
edged  with  a  Spartan  regard  for  truth,  and  defiantly 
published  by  the  families  affected,  who  announced  that 
they  accepted  the  humiliation  of  it.  Scandal  there 
should  be  none.  In  that  caste  the  character  of  women 
was  not  even  to  be  the  subject  of  talk  in  private  gos 
sip  and  innuendo.  No  breach  of  social  caste  was  pos 
sible.  The  overseer,  for  instance,  and  the  descend 
ants  of  the  overseer,  however  rich,  or  well  educated, 
or  accomplished  they  might  become,  could  never  mar 
ry  into  the  select  class.  An  alliance  of  this  sort 
doomed  the  offender  to  an  absolute  and  permanent 
loss  of  social  position.  This  was  the  rule.  Beauty 
could  no  more  gain  entrance  there  than  wealth. 

This  plantation  life,  of  which  so  much  has  been 
written,  was  repeated  with  variations  all  over  the 
South.  In  Louisiana  and  lower  Mississippi  it  was 
more  prodigal  than  in  Virginia.  To  a  great  extent 
its  tone  was  determined  by  a  relaxing  climate,  and  it 
must  be  confessed  that  it  had  in  it  an  element  of  the 
irresponsible  —  of  the  "after  us  the  deluge."  The 
whole  system  wanted  thrift  and,  to  an  English  or 
Northern  visitor,  certain  conditions  of  comfort.  Yet 
everybody  acknowledged  its  fascination ;  for  there 


Society  in  the  New  South.  27 

was  nowhere  else  such  a  display  of  open-hearted  hos 
pitality.  An  invitation  to  visit  meant  an  invitation 
to  stay  indefinitely.  The  longer  the  visit  lasted,  if  it 
ran  into  months,  the  better  were  the  entertainers 
pleased.  It  was  an  uncalculating  hospitality,  and 
possibly  it  went  along  with  littleness  and  meanness, 
in  some  directions,  that  were  no  more  creditable  than 
the  alleged  meanness  of  the  New  England  farmer. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  not  a  systematized  generosity. 
The  hospitality  had  somewhat  the  character  of  a  new 
country  and  of  a  society  not  crowded.  Company  was 
welcome  on  the  vast,  isolated  plantations.  Society 
also  was  really  small,  composed  of  a  few  families,  and 
intercourse  by  long  visits  and  profuse  entertainments 
was  natural  and  even  necessary. 

This  social  aristocracy  had  the  faults  as  well  as  the 
virtues  of  an  aristocracy  so  formed.  One  fault  was 
an  undue  sense  of  superiority,  a  sense  nurtured  by  iso 
lation  from  the  intellectual  contests  and  the  illusion- 
destroying  tests  of  modern  life.  And  this  sense  of 
superiority  diffused  itself  downward  through  the  mass 
of  the  Southern  population.  The  slave  of  a  great 
family  was  proud;  he  held  himself  very  much  above 
the  poor  white,  and  he  would  not  associate  with  the 
slave  of  the  small  farmer;  and  the  poor  white  never 
doubted  his  own  superiority  to  the  Northern  "  mud 
sill  " — as  the  phrase  of  the  day  was.  The  whole  life 
was  somehow  pitched  to  a  romantic  key,  and  often 
there  was  a  queer  contrast  between  the  Gascon-like 
pretension  and  the  reality — all  the  more  because  of  a 
certain  sincerity  and  single-mindedness  that  was  un 
able  to  see  the  anachronism  of  trying  to  live  in  the 
spirit  of  Scott's  romances  in  our  day  and  generation. 


28  South  and  West. 

But  with  all  allowance  for  this,  there  was  a  real  basis 
for  romance  in  the  impulsive,  sun-nurtured  people,  in 
the  conflict  between  the  two  distinct  races,  and  in  the 
system  of  labor  that  was  an  anomaly  in  modern  life. 
With  the  downfall  of  this  system  it  was  inevitable 
that  the  social  state  should  radically  change,  and 
especially  as  this  downfall  was  sudden  and  by  vio 
lence,  and  in  a  struggle  that  left  the  South  impover 
ished,  and  reduced  to  the  rank  of  bread-winners  those 
who  had  always  regarded  labor  as  a  thing  impossible 
for  themselves. 

As  a  necessary  effect  of  this  change,  the  dignity  of 
the  agricultural  interest  was  lowered,  and  trade  and 
industrial  pursuits  were  elevated.  Labor  itself  was 
perforce  dignified.  To  earn  one's  living  by  actual 
work,  in  the  shop,  with  the  needle,  by  the  pen,  in  the 
counting-house  or  school,  in  any  honorable  way,  was 
a  lot  accepted  with  cheerful  courage.  And  it  is  to 
the  credit  of  all  concerned  that  reduced  circumstances 
and  the  necessity  of  work  for  daily  bread  have  not 
thus  far  cost  men  and  women  in  Southern  society 
their  social  position.  Work  was  a  necessity  of  the 
situation,  and  the  spirit  in  which  the  new  life  was 
taken  up  brought  out  the  solid  qualities  of  the  race. 
In  a  few  trying  years  they  had  to  reverse  the  habits 
and  traditions  of  a  century.  I  think  the  honest  ob 
server  will  acknowledge  that  they  have  accomplished 
this  without  loss  of  that  social  elasticity  and  charm 
which  were  heretofore  supposed  to  depend  very  much 
upon  the  artificial  state  of  slave  labor.  And  they 
have  gained  much.  They  have  gained  in  losing  a 
kind  of  suspicion  that  was  inevitable  in  the  isolation 
of  their  peculiar  institution.  They  have  gained  free- 


Society  in  the  New  South.  29 

dom  of  thought  and  action  in  all  the  fields  of  modern 
endeavor,  in  the  industrial  arts,  in  science,  in  literature. 
And  the  fruits  of  this  enlargement  must  add  greatly 
to  the  industrial  and  intellectual  wealth  of  the  world. 
Society  itself  in  the  new  South  has  cut  loose  from 
its  old  moorings,  but  it  is  still  in  a  transition  state, 
and  offers  the  most  interesting  study  of  tendencies 
and  possibilities.  Its  danger,  of  course,  is  that  of  the 
North — a  drift  into  materialism,  into  a  mere  struggle 
for  wealth,  undue  importance  attached  to  money,  and 
a  loss  of  public  spirit  in  the  selfish  accumulation  of 
property.  Unfortunately,  in  the  transition  of  twenty 
years  the  higher  education  has  been  neglected.  The 
young  men  of  this  generation  have  not  given  even  as 
much  attention  to  intellectual  pursuits  as  their  fathers 
gave.  Neither  in  polite  letters  nor  in  politics  and 
political  history  have  they  had  the  same  training. 
They  have  been  too  busy  in  the  hard  struggle  for  a 
living.  It  is  true  at  the  North  that  the  young  men  in 
business  are  oiot  so  well  educated,  not  so  well  read,  as 
the  young  women  of  their  own  rank  in  society.  And 
I  suspect  that  this  is  still  more  true  in  the  South.  It 
is  not  uncommon  to  find  in  this  generation  Southern 
young  women  who  add  to  sincerity,  openness  and 
frankness  of  manner;  to  the  charm  born  of  the  wish 
to  please,  the  graces  of  cultivation;  who  know  French 
like  their  native  tongue,  who  are  well  acquainted  with 
the  French  and  German  literatures,  who  are  well  read 
in  the  English  classics — though  perhaps  guiltless  of 
much  familiarity  with  our  modern  American  litera 
ture.  But  taking  the  South  at  large,  the  schools  for 
either  sex  are  far  behind  those  of  the  North  both  in 
discipline  and  range.  And  this  is  especially  to  be 


30  South  and  West. 

regretted,  since  the  higher  education  is  an  absolute 
necessity  to  counteract  the  intellectual  demoralization 
of  the  newly  come  industrial  spirit. 

We  have  yet  to  study  the  compensations  left  to 
the  South  in  their  century  of  isolation  from  this  in 
dustrial  spirit,  and  from  the  absolutely  free  inquiry 
of  our  modern  life.  Shall  we  find  something  sweet 
and  sound  there,  that  will  yet  be  a  powerful  conserv 
ative  influence  in  the  republic?  Will  it  not  be 
strange,  said  a  distinguished  biblical  scholar  and  an 
old-time  antislavery  radical,  if  we  have  to  depend, 
after  all,  upon  the  orthodox  conservatism  of  the  South? 
For  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  Southern  pulpit  holds 
still  the  traditions  of  the  old  theology,  and  the  mass 
of  Southern  Christians  are  still  undisturbed  by  doubts. 
They  are  no  more  troubled  by  agnosticism  in  religion 
than  by  altruism  in  sociology.  There  remains  a  great 
mass  of  sound  and  simple  faith.  We  are  not  discuss 
ing  either  the  advantage  or  the  danger  of  disturbing 
thought,  or  any  question  of  morality  or  of  the  con 
duct  of  life,  nor  the  shield  or  the  peril  of  ignorance — 
it  is  simply  a  matter  of  fact  that  the  South  is  compar 
atively  free  from  what  is  called  modern  doubt. 

Another  fact  is  noticeable.  The  South  is  not  and 
never  has  been  disturbed  by  "  isms "  of  any  sort. 
"  Spiritualism "  or  "Spiritism"  has  absolutely  no 
lodgement  there.  It  has  not  even  appealed  in  any 
way  to  the  excitable  and  superstitious  colored  race.  In 
quiry  failed  to  discover  to  the  writer  any  trace  of  this 
delusion  among  whites  or  blacks.  Society  has  never 
been  agitated  on  the  important  subjects  of  graham- 
bread  or  of  the  divided  skirt.  The  temperance  ques 
tion  has  forced  itself  upon  the  attention  of  deeply 


Society  in  the  New  South.  31 

drinking  communities  here  and  there.  Usually  it  has 
been  treated  in  a  very  common-sense  way,  and  not  as 
a  matter  of  politics.  Fanaticism  may  sometimes  be 
a  necessity  against  an  overwhelming  evil ;  but  the 
writer  knows  of  communities  in  the  South  that  have 
effected  a  practical  reform  in  liquor  selling  and  drink 
ing  without  fanatical  excitement.  Bar-room  drink 
ing  is  a  fearful  curse  in  Southern  cities,  as  it  is  in 
Northern ;  it  is  an  evil  that  the  colored  people  fall 
into  easily,  but  it  is  beginning  to  be  met  in  some 
Southern  localities  in  a  resolute  and  sensible  manner. 
The  students  of  what  we  like  to  call  "progress," 
especially  if  they  are  disciples  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  have 
an  admirable  field  of  investigation  in  the  contrast  of 
the  social,  economic,  and  educational  structure  of  the 
North  and  the  South  at  the  close  of  the  war.  After 
a  century  of  'free  schools,  perpetual  intellectual  agi 
tation,  extraordinary  enterprise  in  every  domain  of 
thought  and  material  achievement,  the  North  pre 
sented  a  spectacle  at  once  of  the  highest  hope  and  the 
gravest  anxiety.  What  diversity  of  life!  What  ful 
ness!  What  intellectual  and  even  social  emancipa 
tion!  What  reforms,  called  by  one  party  Heaven 
sent,  and  by  the  other  reforms  against  nature!  What 
agitations,  doubts,  contempt  of  authority!  What  wild 
attempts  to  conduct  life  on  no  basis  philosophic  or 
divine!  And  yet  what  prosperity,  what  charities, 
what  a  marvellous  growth,  what  an  improvement  in 
physical  life!  With  better  knowledge  of  sanitary 
conditions  and  of  the  culinary  art,  what  an  increase 
of  beauty  in  women  and  of  stalwartness  in  men!  For 
beauty  and  physical  comeliness,  it  must  be  acknowl 
edged  (parenthetically),  largely  depend  upon  food. 


32  South  and  West. 

It  is  in  the  impoverished  parts  of  the  country,  wheth 
er  South  or  North,  the  sandy  barrens,  and  the  still 
vast  regions  where  cooking  is  an  unknown  art,  that 
scrawny  and  dyspeptic  men  and  women  abound — the 
sallow-faced,  flat-chested,  spindle-limbed. 

This  Northern  picture  is  a  veritable  nineteenth-cen 
tury  spectacle.  Side  by  side  with  it  was  the  other 
society,  also  covering  a  vast  domain,  that  was  in  many 
respects  a  projection  of  the  eighteenth  century  into 
the  nineteenth.  It  had  much  of  the  conservatism, 
and  preserved  something  of  the  manners,  of  the  eigh 
teenth  century,  and  lacked  a  good  deal  the  so-called 
spirit  of  the  age  of  the  nineteenth,  together  with  its 
doubts,  its  isms,  its  delusions,  its  energies.  Life  in  the 
South  is  still  on  simpler  terms  than  in  the  North,  and 
society  is  not  so  complex.  I  am  inclined  to  think  it 
is  a  little  more  natural,  more  sincere  in  manner  though 
not  in  fact,  more  frank  and  impulsive.  One  would 
hesitate  to  use  the  word  unworldly  with  regard  to  it, 
but  it  may  be  less  calculating.  A  bungling  male  ob 
server  would  be  certain  to  get  himself  into  trouble  by 
expressing  an  opinion  about  women  in  any  part  of  the 
world;  but  women  make  society,  and  to  discuss  society 
at  all  is  to  discuss  them.  It  is  probably  true  that  the 
education  of  women  at  the  South,  taken  at  large,  is 
more  superficial  than  at  the  North,  lacking  in  purpose, 
in  discipline,  in  intellectual  vigor.  The  aim  of  the 
old  civilization  was  to  develop  the  graces  of  life,  to 
make  women  attractive,  charming,  good  talkers  (but 
not  too  learned),  graceful,  and  entertaining  compan 
ions.  When  the  main  object  is  to  charm  and  please, 
society  is  certain  to  be  agreeable.  In  Southern  soci 
ety  beauty,  physical  beauty,  was  and  is  much  thought 


Society  in  the  New  South.  33 

of,  much  talked  of.  The  "  belle  "  was  an  institution, 
and  is  yet.  The  belle  of  one  city  or  village  had  a 
wide  reputation,  and  trains  of  admirers  wherever  she 
went — in  short,  a  veritable  career,  and  was  probably 
better  known  than  a  poetess  at  the  North.  She  not 
only  ruled  in  her  day,  but  she  left  a  memory  which 
became  a  romance  to  the  next  generation.  There 
went  along  with  such  careers  a  certain  lightness  and 
gayety  of  life,  and  now  and  again  a  good  deal  of  pa 
thos  and  tragedy. 

With  all  its  social  accomplishments,  its  love  of  col 
or,  its  climatic  tendency  to  the  sensuous  side  of  life, 
the  South  has  been  unexpectedly  wanting  in  a  fine- 
art  development — namely,  in  music  and  pictorial  art. 
Culture  of  this  sort  has  been  slow  enough  in  the 
North,  and  only  lately  has  had  any  solidity  or  been 
much  diffused.  The  love  of  art,  and  especially  of  art 
decoration,  was  greatly  quickened  by  the  Philadelphia 
Exhibition,  and  the  comparatively  recent  infusion  of 
German  music  has  begun  to  elevate  the  taste.  But  I 
imagine  that  while  the  South  naturally  was  fond  of 
music  of  a  light  sort,  and  New  Orleans  could  sustain 
and  almost  make  native  the  French  opera  when  New 
York  failed  entirely  to  popularize  any  sort  of  opera, 
the  musical  taste  was  generally  very  rudimentary; 
and  the  poverty  in  respect  to  pictures  and  engravings 
was  more  marked  still.  In  a  few  great  houses  were 
fine  paintings,  brought  over  from  Europe,  and  here 
and  there  a  noble  family  portrait.  But  the  traveller 
to-day  will  go  through  city  after  city,  and  village  af 
ter  village,  and  find  no  art-shop  (as  he  may  look  in 
vain  in  large  cities  for  any  sort  of  book-store  except 
a  news-room);  rarely  will  see  an  etching  or  a  fine 
3 


34:  South  and  West. 

engraving;  and  he  will  be  led  to  doubt  if  the  taste 
for  either  existed  to  any  great  degree  before  the  war. 
Of  course  he  will  remember  that  taste  and  knowledge 
in  the  fine  arts  may  be  said  in  the  North  to  be  recent 
acquirements,  and  that,  meantime,  the  South  has  been 
impoverished  and  struggling  in  a  political  and  social 
revolution. 

Slavery  and  isolation  and  a  semi-feudal  state  have 
left  traces  that  must  long  continue  to  modify  social 
life  in  the  South,  and  that  may  not  wear  out  for  a 
century  to  come.  The  new  life  must  also  differ  from 
that  in  the  North  by  reason  of  climate,  and  on  account 
of  the  presence  of  the  alien,  insouciant  colored  race. 
The  vast  black  population,  however  it  may  change, 
and  however  education  may  influence  it,  must  remain 
a  powerful  determining  factor.  The  body  of  the 
slaves,  themselves  inert,  and  with  no  voice  in  affairs, 
inevitably  influenced  life,  the  character  of  civiliza 
tion,  manners,  even  speech  itself.  With  slavery  end 
ed,  the  Southern  whites  are  emancipated,  and  the  in 
fluence  of  the  alien  race  will  be  other  than  what  it 
was,  but  it  cannot  fail  to  affect  the  tone  of  life  in  the 
States  where  it  is  a  large  element. 

"When,  however,  we  have  made  all  allowance  for 
difference  in  climate,  difference  in  traditions,  total 
difference  in  the  way  of  looking  at  life  for  a  century, 
it  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  a  great  transformation  is 
taking  place  in  the  South,  and  that  Southern  society 
and  Northern  society  are  becoming  every  day  more 
and  more  alike.  I  know  there  are  those,  and  South 
erners,  too,  who  insist  that  we  are  still  two  peoples, 
with  more  points  of  difference  than  of  resemblance — 
certainly  farther  apart  than  Gascons  and  Bretons. 


Society  in  the  New  South.  35 

This  seems  to  me  not  true  in  general,  though  it  may 
be  of  a  portion  of  the  passing  generation.  Of  course 
there  is  difference  in  temperament,  and  peculiarities 
of  speech  and  manner  remain  and  will  continue,  as 
they  exist  in  different  portions  of  the  North — the  ac 
cent  of  the  Bostonian  differs  from  that  of  the  Phila- 
delphian,  and  the  inhabitant  of  Richmond  is  known 
by  his  speech  as  neither  of  New  Orleans  nor  New 
York.  But  the  influence  of  economic  laws,  of  com 
mon  political  action,  of  interest  and  pride  in  one  coun 
try,  is  stronger  than  local  bias  in  such  an  age  of  inter 
communication  as  this.  The  great  barrier  between 
North  and  South  having  been  removed,  social  assimi 
lation  must  go  on.  It  is  true  that  the  small  farmer 
in  Vermont,  and  the  small  planter  in  Georgia,  and  the 
village  life  in  the  two  States,  will  preserve  their  strong 
contrasts.  But  that  which,  without  clearly  defining, 
we  call  society  becomes  yearly  more  and  more  alike 
North  and  South.  It  is  becoming  more  and  more  dif 
ficult  to  tell  in  any  summer  assembly — at  Newport, 
the  White  Sulphur,  Saratoga,  Bar  Harbor — by  physi 
ognomy,  dress,  or  manner,  a  person's  birthplace. 
There  are  noticeable  fewer  distinctive  traits  that 
enable  us  to  say  with  certainty  that  one  is  from  the 
South,  or  the  West,  or  the  East.  No  doubt  the  type 
at  such  a  Southern  resort  as  the  White  Sulphur  is 
more  distinctly  American  than  at  such  a  Northern 
resort  as  Saratoga.  We  are  prone  to  make  a  good 
deal  of  local  peculiarities,  but  when  we  look  at  the 
matter  broadly  and  consider  the  vastness  of  our  ter 
ritory  and  the  varieties  of  climate,  it  is  marvellous 
that  there  is  so  little  difference  in  speech,  manner, 
and  appearance.  Contrast  us  with  Europe  and  its  va- 


36  South  and  West. 

rious  irreconcilable  races  occupying  less  territory. 
Even  little  England  offers  greater  variety  than  the 
United  States.  When  we  think  of  our  large,  widely 
scattered  population,  the  wonder  is  that  we  do  not 
differ  more. 

Southern  society  has  always  had  a  certain  prestige 
in  the  North.  One  reason  for  this  was  the  fact  that 
the  ruling  class  South  had  more  leisure  for  social  life. 
Climate,  also,  had  much  to  do  in  softening  manners, 
making  the  temperament  ardent,  and  at  the  same 
time  producing  that  leisurely  movement  which  is  es 
sential  to  a  polished  life.  It  is  probably  true,  also, 
that  mere  wealth  was  less  a  passport  to  social  dis 
tinction  than  at  the  North,  or  than  it  has  become  at 
the  North  ;  that  is  to  say,  family,  or  a  certain  charm 
of  breeding,  or  the  talent  of  being  agreeable,  or  the 
gift  of  cleverness,  or  of  beauty,  were  necessary,  and 
money  was  not.  In  this  respect  it  seems  to  be  true 
that  social  life  is  changing  at  the  South  ;  that  is  to 
say,  money  is  getting  to  have  the  social  power  in 
New  Orleans  that  it  has  in  New  York.  It  is  inevita 
ble  in  a  commercial  and  industrial  community  that 
money  should  have  a  controlling  power,  as  it  is  re 
grettable  that  the  enjoyment  of  its  power  very  slowly 
admits  a  sense  of  its  responsibility.  The  old  tradi 
tions  of  the  South  having  been  broken  down,  and 
nearly  all  attention  being  turned  to  the  necessity  of 
making  money,  it  must  follow  that  mere  wealth  will 
rise  as  a  social  factor.  Herein  lies  one  danger  to 
what  was  best  in  the  old  regime.  Another  danger  is 
that  it  must  be  put  to  the  test  of  the  ideas,  the  agita 
tions,  the  elements  of  doubt  and  disintegration  that 
seem  inseparable  to  "  progress,"  which  give  Northern 


Society  in  the  New  South.  37 

society  its  present  complexity,  and  just  cause  of 
alarm  to  all  who  watch  its  headlong  career.  Fulness 
of  life  is  accepted  as  desirable,  but  it  has  its  dangers. 

"Within  the  past  five  years  social  intercourse  be 
tween  North  and  South  has  been  greatly  increased. 
Northerners  who  felt  strongly  about  the  Union  and 
about  slavery,  and  took  up  the  cause  of  the  freedman, 
and  were- accustomed  all  their  lives  to  absolute  free 
speech,  were  not  comfortable  in  the  post-reconstruc 
tion  atmosphere.  Perhaps  they  expected  too  much 
of  human  nature — a  too  sudden  subsidence  of  sus 
picion  and  resentment.  They  felt  that  they  were 
not  welcome  socially,  however  much  their  capital  and 
business  energy  were  desired.  On  the  other  hand, 
most  Southerners  were  too  poor  to  travel  in  the 
North,  as  they  did  formerly.  But  all  these  points 
have  been  turned.  Social  intercourse  and  travel  are 
renewed.  If  difficulties  and  alienations  remain  they 
are  sporadic,  and  melting  away.  The  harshness  of 
the  Northern  winter  climate  has  turned  a  stream  of 
travel  and  occupation  to  the  Gulf  States,  and  par 
ticularly  to  Florida,  which  is  indeed  now  scarcely  a 
Southern  State  except  in  climate.  The  Atlanta  and 
New  Orleans  Exhibitions  did  much  to  bring  people 
of  all  sections  together  socially.  With  returning 
financial  prosperity  all  the  Northern  summer  resorts 
have  seen  increasing  numbers  of  Southern  people 
seeking  health  and  pleasure.  I  believe  that  during 
the  past  summer  more  Southerners  have  been  travel- 
lino-  and  visiting  in  the  North  than  ever  before. 

O  O 

This  social  intermingling  is  significant  in  itself,  and 
of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  removal  of  linger 
ing  misunderstandings.  They  who  learn  to  like  each 


38  South  and  West. 

other  personally  will  be  tolerant  in  political  differ 
ences,  and  helpful  and  unsuspicious  in  the  very  grave 
problems  that  rest  upon  the  late  slave  States.  Differ 
ences  of  opinion  and  different  interests  will  exist,  but 
surely  love  is  stronger  than  hate,  and  sympathy  and 
kindness  are  better  solvents  than  alienation  and  criti 
cism.  The  play  of  social  forces  is  very  powerful  in 
such  a  republic  as  ours,  and  there  is  certainly  reason 
to  believe  that  they  will  be  exerted  now  in  behalf  of 
that  cordial  appreciation  of  what  is  good  and  that 
toleration  of  traditional  differences  which  are  neces 
sary  to  a  people  indissolubly  bound  together  in  one 
national  destiny.  Alienated  for  a  century,  the  society 
of  the  North  and  the  society  of  the  South  have  some 
thing  to  forget  but  more  to  gain  in  the  union  that 
every  day  becomes  closer. 


III. 

NEW  ORLEANS. 

THE  first  time  I  saw  New  Orleans  was  on  a  Sunday 
morning  in  the  month  of  March.  \Ve  alighted  from 
the  train  at  the  foot  of  Esplanade  Street,  and  walked 
along  through  the  French  Market,  and  by  Jackson 
Square  to  the  Hotel  Royal.  The  morning,  after  rain, 
was  charming ;  there  was  a  fresh  breeze  from  the 
river;  the  foliage  was  a  tender  green;  in  the  balconies 
and  on  the  mouldering  window-ledges  flowers  bloomed, 
and  in  the  decaying  courts  climbing -roses  mingled 
their  perfume  with  the  orange;  the  shops  were  open; 
ladies  tripped  along  from  early  mass  or  to  early  mar 
ket;  there  was  a  twittering  in  the  square  and  in  the 
sweet  old  gardens ;  caged  birds  sang  and  screamed 
the  songs  of  South  America  and  the  tropics;  the  lan 
guage  heard  on  all  sides  was  French  or  the  degraded 
jargon  which  the  easy-going  African  has  manufact 
ured  out  of  the  tongue  of  Bienville.  Nothing  could 
be  more  shabby  than  the  streets,  ill-paved,  with  undu 
lating  sidewalks  and  open  gutters  green  with  slime, 
and  both  stealing  and  giving  odor;  little  canals  in 
which  the  cat,  become  the  companion  of  the  crawfish, 
and  the  vegetable  in  decay  sought  in  vain  a  current 
to  oblivion;  the  streets  with  rows  of  one-story  houses, 
wooden,  with  green  doors  and  batten  window-shutters, 
or  brick,  with  the  painted  stucco  peeling  off,  the  line 
broken  often  by  an  edifice  of  two  stories,  with  gal- 


40  South  and  West. 

leries  and  delicate  tracery  of  wrought  -  iron,  houses 
pink  and  yellow  and  brown  and  gray  —  colors  all 
blending  and  harmonious  when  we  get  a  long  vista  of 
them  and  lose  the  details  of  view  in  the  broad  artistic 
effect.  Nothing  could  be  shabbier  than  the  streets, 
unless  it  is  the  tumble-down,  picturesque  old  market, 
bright  with  flowers  and  vegetables  and  many-hued 
fish,  and  enlivened  by  the  genial  African,  who  in  the 
New  World  experiments  in  all  colors,  from  coal  black 
to  the  pale  pink  of  the  sea-shell,  to  find  one  that  suits 
his  mobile  nature.  I  liked  it  all  from  the  first;  I  lin 
gered  long  in  that  morning  walk,  liking  it  more  and 
more,  in  spite  of  its  shabbiness,  but  utterly  unable  to 
say  then  or  ever  since  wherein  its  charm  lies.  I  sup 
pose  we  are  all  wrongly  made  up  and  have  a  fallen 
nature;  else  why  is  it  that  while  the  most  thrifty  and 
neat  and  orderly  city  only  wins  our  approval,  and 
perhaps  gratifies  us  intellectually,  such  a  thriftless, 
battered  and  stained,  and  lazy  old  place  as  the  French 
quarter  of  New  Orleans  takes  our  hearts  ? 

I  never  could  find  out  exactly  where  New  Orleans 
is.  I  have  looked  for  it  on  the  map  without  much 
enlightenment.  It  is  dropped  down  there  somewhere 
in  the  marshes  of  the  Mississippi  and  the  bayous  and 
lakes.  It  is  below  the  one,  and  tangled  up  among  the 
others,  or  it  might  some  day  float  out  to  the  Gulf  and 
disappear.  How  the  Mississippi  gets  out  I  never 
could  discover.  When  it  first  comes  in  sight  of  the 
town  it  is  running  east;  at  Carrollton  it  abruptly  turns 
its  rapid,  broad,  yellow  flood  and  runs  south,  turns 
presently  eastward,  circles  a  great  portion  of  the  city, 
then  makes  a  bold  push  for  the  north  in  order  to 
avoid  Algiers  and  reach  the  foot  of  Canal  Street,  and 


New  Orleans.  41 

encountering  there  the  heart  of  the  town,  it  sheers  off 
again  along  the  old  French  quarter  and  Jackson 
Square  due  east,  and  goes  no  one  knows  where,  except 
perhaps  Mr.  Eads. 

The  city  is  supposed  to  lie  in  this  bend  of  the  river, 
but  it  in  fact  extends  eastward  along  the  bank  down 
to  the  Barracks,  and  spreads  backward  towards  Lake 
Pontchartrain  over  a  vast  area,  and  includes  some 
very  good  snipe-shooting. 

Although  New  Orleans  has  only  about  a  quarter  of 
a  million  of  inhabitants,  and  so  many  only  in  the  win 
ter,  it  is  larger  than  Pekin,  and  I  believe  than  Phila 
delphia,  having  an  area  of  about  one  hundred  and 
five  square  miles.  From  Carrollton  to  the  Barracks, 
which  are  not  far  from  the  Battle-field,  the  distance 
by  the  river  is  some  thirteen  miles.  From  the  river 
to  the  lake  the  least  distance  is  four  miles.  This  vast 
territory  is  traversed  by  lines  of  horse-cars  which 
all  meet  in  Canal  Street,  the  most  important  business 
thoroughfare  of  the  city,  which  runs  north-east  from 
the  river,  and  divides  the  French  from  the  Amer 
ican  quarter.  One  taking  a  horse-car  in  any  part 
of  the  city  will  ultimately  land,  having  boxed  the 
compass,  in  Canal  Street.  But  it  needs  a  person  of 
vast  local  erudition  to  tell  in  what  part  of  the  city,  or 
in  what  section  of  the  home  of  the  frog  and  craw 
fish,  he  will  land  if  he  takes  a  horse-car  in  Canal 
Street.  The  river  being  higher  than  the  city,  there 
is  of  course  no  drainage  into  it ;  but  there  is  a  theory 
that  the  water  in  the  open  gutters  does  move,  and 
that  it  moves  in  the  direction  of  the  Bayou  St.  John, 
and  of  the  cypress  swamps  that  drain  into  Lake  Pont 
chartrain.  The  stranger  who  is  accustomed  to  closed 


4:2  South  and  West. 

sewers,  and  to  get  his  malaria  and  typhoid  through 
pipes  conducted  into  his  house  by  the  most  approved 
methods  of  plumbing,  is  aghast  at  this  spectacle  of 
slime  and  filth  in  the  streets,  and  wonders  why  the 
city  is  not  in  perennial  epidemic ;  but  the  sun  and  the 
wind  are  great  scavengers,  and  the  city  is  not  nearly 
so  unhealthy  as  it  ought  to  be  with  such  a  city  gov 
ernment  as  they  say  it  endures. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  much  upon  the  external 
features  of  New  Orleans,  for  innumerable  descriptions 
and  pictures  have  familiarized  the  public  with  them. 
Besides,  descriptions  can  give  the  stranger  little  idea 
of  the  peculiar  city.  Although  all  on  one  level,  it  is 
a  town  of  contrasts.  In  no  other  city  of  the  Unit 
ed  States  or  of  Mexico  is  the  old  and  romantic  pre 
served  in  such  integrity  and  brought  into  such  sharp 
contrast  to  the  modern.  There  are  many  handsome 
public  buildings,  churches,  club-houses,  elegant  shops, 
and  on  the  American  side  a  great  area  of  well-paved 
streets  solidly  built  up  in  business  blocks.  The  Square 
of  the  original  city,  included  between  the  river  and 
canal,  Rampart  and  Esplanade  streets,  which  was  once 
surrounded  by  a  wall,  is  as  closely  built,  but  the 
streets  are  narrow,  the  houses  generally  are  smaller, 
and  although  it  swarms  with  people,  and  contains  the 
cathedral,  the  old  Spanish  buildings,  Jackson  Square, 
the  French  Market,  the  French  Opera-house,  and  other 
theatres,  the  Mint,  the  Custom-house,  the  old  Ursuline 
convent  (now  the  residence  of  the  archbishop),  old 
banks,  and  scores  of  houses  of  historic  celebrity,  it  is 
a  city  of  the  past,  and  specially  interesting  in  its-pict 
uresque  decay.  Beyond  this,  eastward  and  north 
ward  extend  interminable  streets  of  small  houses,  with 


New  Orleans.  43 

now  and  then  a  flowery  court  or  a  pretty  rose  garden, 
occupied  mainly  by  people  of  French  and  Spanish  de 
scent.  The  African  pervades  all  parts  of  the  town, 
except  the  new  residence  portion  of  the  American 
quarter.  This,  which  occupies  the  vast  area  in  the 
bend  of  the  river  west  of  the  business  blocks  as  far 
as  Carrollton,  is  in  character  a  great  village  rather 
than  a  city.  Not  all  its  broad  avenues  and  hand 
some  streets  are  paved  (and  those  that  are  not  are 
in  some  seasons  impassable),  its  houses  are  nearly 
all  of  wood,  most  of  them  detached,  with  plots  of 
ground  and  gardens,  and  as  the  quarter  is  very  well 
shaded,  the  effect  is  bright  and  agreeable.  In  it  are 
many  stately  residences,  occupying  a  square  or  half  a 
square,  and  embowered  in  foliage  and  flowers.  Care 
has  been  given  lately  to  turf-culture,  and  one  sees  here 
thick-set  and  handsome  lawns.  The  broad  Esplanade 
Street,  with  its  elegant  old-fashioned  houses,  and  dou 
ble  rows  of  shade  trees,  which  has  long  been  the  rural 
pride  of  the  French  quarter,  has  now  rivals  in  respect 
ability  and  style  on  the  American  side. 

New  Orleans  is  said  to  be  delightful  in  the  late  fall 
months,  before  the  winter  rains  set  in,  but  I  believe  it 
looks  its  best  in  March  and  April.  This  is  owing  to 
the  roses.  If  the  town  was  not  attached  to  the  name 
of  the  Crescent  City,  it  might  very  well  adopt  the 
title  of  the  City  of  Roses.  So  kind  are  climate  and 
soil  that  the  magnificent  varieties  of  this  queen  of 
flowers,  which  at  the  North  bloom  only  in  hot-houses, 
or  with  great  care  are  planted  out-doors  in  the  heat  of 
our  summer,  thrive  here  in  the  open  air  in  prodigal 
abundance  and  beauty.  In  April  the  town  is  literally 
embowered  in  them  ;  they  fill  door-yards  and  gardens, 


44  South  and  West. 

they  overrun  the  porches,  they  climb  the  sides  of  the 
houses,  they  spread  over  the  trees,  they  take  posses 
sion  of  trellises  and  fences  and  walls,  perfuming  the 
air  and  entrancing  the  heart  with  color.  In  the  out 
lying  parks,  like  that  of  the  Jockey  Club,  and  the 
florists'  gardens  at  Carrollton,  there  are  fields  of  them, 
acres  of  the  finest  sorts  waving  in  the  spring  wind. 
Alas  !  can  beauty  ever  satisfy  ?  This  wonderful  spec 
tacle  fills  one  with  I  know  not  what  exquisite  longing. 
These  flowers  pervade  the  town,  old  women  on  the 
street  corners  sit  behind  banks  of  them,  the  florists' 
windows  blush  with  them,  friends  despatch  to  each 
other  great  baskets  of  them,  the  favorites  at  the  the 
atre  and  the  amateur  performers  stand  behind  high 
barricades  of  roses  which  the  good-humored  audience 
piles  upon  the  stage,  everybody  carries  roses  and 
wears  roses,  and  the  houses  overflow  with  them.  In 
this  passion  for  flowers  you  may  read  a  prominent 
trait  of  the  people.  For  myself  I  like  to  see  a  spot 
on  this  earth  where  beauty  is  enjoyed  for  itself  and 
let  to  run  to  waste,  but  if  ever  the  industrial  spirit 
of  the  French-Italians  should  prevail  along  the  litto 
ral  of  Louisiana  and  Mississippi,  the  raising  of  flow 
ers  for  the  manufacture  of  perfumes  would  become 
a  most  profitable  industry. 

New  Orleans  is  the  most  cosmopolitan  of  provincial 
cities.  Its  comparative  isolation  has  secured  the  de 
velopment  of  provincial  traits  and  manners,  has  pre 
served  the  individuality  of  the  many  races  that  give 
it  color,  morals,  and  character,  while  its  close  relations 
with  France — an  affiliation  and  sympathy  which  the 
late  war  has  not  altogether  broken — and  the  constant 
influx  of  Northern  men  of  business  and  affairs  have 


New  Orleans.  45 

given  it  the  air  of  a  metropolis.  To  the  Northern 
stranger  the  aspect  and  the  manners  of  the  city  are 
foreign,  but  if  he  remains  long  enough  he  is  sure  to 
yield  to  its  fascinations,  and  become  a  partisan  of  it. 
It  is  not  altogether  the  soft  and  somewhat  enervating 
and  occasionally  treacherous  climate  that  beguiles 
him,  but  quite  as  much  the  easy  terms  on  which  life 
can  be  lived.  There  is  a  human  as  well  as  a  climatic 
amiability  that  wins  him.  No  doubt  it  is  better  for  a 
man  to  be  always  braced  up,  but  no  doubt  also  there 
is  an  attraction  in  a  complaisance  that  indulges  his 
inclinations. 

Socially  as  well  as  commercially  New  Orleans  is  in 
a  transitive  state.  The  change  from  river  to  railway 
transportation  has  made  her  levees  vacant ;  the  ship 
ment  of  cotton  by  rail  and  its  direct  transfer  to  ocean 
carriage  have  nearly  destroyed  a  large  middle-men 
industry  ;  a  large  part  of  the  agricultural  tribute  of 
the  South-west  has  been  diverted;  plantations  have 
either  not  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  war  or 
have  not  adjusted  themselves  to  new  productions,  and 
the  city  waits  the  rather  blind  developments  of  the 
new  era.  The  falling  off  of  law  business,  which  I 
should  like  to  attribute  to  the  growth  of  common- 
sense  and  good-will  is,  I  fear,  rather  due  to  business 
lassitude,  for  it  is  observed  that  men  quarrel  most 
when  they  are  most  actively  engaged  in  acquiring 
each  other's  property.  The  business  habits  of  the 
Creoles  were  conservative  and  slow  ;  they  do  not 
readily  accept  new  ways,  and  in  this  transition  time 
the  American  element  is  taking  the  lead  in  all  enter 
prises.  The  American  element  itself  is  toned  down 
by  the  climate  and  the  contagion  of  the  leisurely  hab- 


46  South  and  West.  * 

its  of  the  Creoles,  and  loses  something  of  the  sharp 
ness  and  excitability  exhibited  by  business  men  in  all 
Northern  cities,  but  it  is  certainly  changing  the  social 
as  well  as  the  business  aspect  of  the  city.  Whether 
these  social  changes  will  make  New  Orleans  a  more 
agreeable  place  of  residence  remains  to  be  seen. 

For  the  old  civilization  had  many  admirable  quali 
ties.  With  all  its  love  of  money  and  luxury  and  an 
easy  life,  it  was  comparatively  simple.  It  cared  less 
for  display  than  the  society  that  is  supplanting  it. 
Its  rule  was  domesticity.  I  should  say  that  it  had 
the  virtues  as  well  as  the  prejudices  and  the  narrow 
ness  of  intense  family  feeling,  and  its  exclusiveness. 
But  when  it  trusted,  it  had  few  reserves,  and  its  cord 
iality  was  equal  to  its  naivete.  The  Creole  civiliza 
tion  differed  totally  from  that  in  any  Northern  city; 
it  looked  at  life,  literature,  wit,  manners,  from  alto 
gether  another  plane;  in  order  to  understand  the  so 
ciety  of  New  Orleans  one  needs  to  imagine  what 
French  society  would  be  in  a  genial  climate  and  in 
the  freedom  of  a  new  country.  Undeniably,  until 
recently,  the  Creoles  gave  the  tone  to  New  Orleans. 
And  it  was  the  French  culture,  the  French  view  of 
life,  that  was  diffused.  The  young  ladies  mainly 
were  educated  in  convents  and  French  schools.  This 
education  had  womanly  agreeability  and  matrimony 
in  view,  and  the  graces  of  social  life.  It  differed  not 
much  from  the  education  of  young  ladies  of  the  peri 
od  elsewhere,  except  that  it  was  from  the  French 
rather  than  the  English  side,  but  this  made  a  world 
of  difference.  French  was  a  study  and  a  possession, 
not  a  fashionable  accomplishment.  The  Creole  had 
gayety,  sentiment,  spirit,  with  a  certain  climatic  Ian- 


New  Orleans.  47 

guor,  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  charm  of  manner, 
and  not  seldom  winning  beauty;  she  was  passionately 
fond  of  dancing  and  of  music,  and  occasionally  an 
adept  in  the  latter;  and  she  had  candor,  and  either 
simplicity  or  the  art  of  it.  But  with  her  tendency 
to  domesticity  and  her  capacity  for  friendship,  and 
notwithstanding  her  gay  temperament,  she  was  less 
worldly  than  some  of  her  sisters  who  were  more 
gravely  educated  after  the  English  manner.  There 
was  therefore  in  the  old  New  Orleans  life  something 
nobler  than  the  spirit  of  plutocracy.  The  Creole 
middle-class  population  had,  and  has  yet,  captivating 
naivete,  friendliness,  cordiality. 

But  the  Creole  influence  in  New  Orleans  is  wider 
and  deeper  than  this.  It  has  affected  literary  sym 
pathies  and  what  may  be  called  literary  morals.  In 
business  the  Creole  is  accused  of  being  slow,  conserva 
tive,  in  regard  to  improvements  obstinate  and  reaction 
ary,  preferring  to  nurse  a  prejudice  rather  than  run 
the  risk  of  removing  it  by  improving  himself,  and  of 
having  a  conceit  that  his  way  of  looking  at  life  is  bet 
ter  than  the  Boston  way.  His  literary  culture  is  de 
rived  from  France,  and  not  from  England  or  the 
North.  And  his  ideas  a  good  deal  affect  the  attitude 
of  New  Orleans  towards  English  and  contemporary 
literature.  The  American  element  of  the  town  was 
for  the  most  part  commercial,  and  little  given  to  lit 
erary  tastes.  That  also  is  changing,  but  I  fancy  it  is 
still  true  that  the  most  solid  culture  is  with  the  Cre 
oles,  and  it  has  not  been  appreciated  because  it  is 
French,  and  because  its  point  of  view  for  literary 
criticism  is  quite  different  from  that  prevailing  else 
where  in  America.  It  brings  our  American  and  Eng- 


48  South  and  West. 

lish  contemporary  authors,  for  instance,  to  compari 
son,  not  with  each  other,  but  with  French  and  other 
Continental  writers.  And  this  point  of  view  consid 
erably  affects  the  New  Orleans  opinion  of  Northern 
literature.  In  this  view  it  wants  color,  passion;  it  is 
too  self-conscious  and  prudish,  not  to  say  Puritanically 
mock-modest.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  Creoles 
as  a  class  are  a  reading  people,  but  the  literary  stand 
ards  of  their  scholars  and  of  those  among  them  who 
do  cultivate  literature  deeply  are  different  from  those 
at  the  North.  We  may  call  it  provincial,  or  we  may 
call  it  cosmopolitan,  but  we  shall  not  understand  New 
Orleans  until  we  get  its  point  of  view  of  both  life 
and  letters. 

In  making  these  observations  it  will  occur  to  the 
reader  that  they  are  of  necessity  superficial,  and  not 
entitled  to  be  regarded  as  criticism  or  judgment.  But 
I  am  impressed  with  the  foreignness  of  New  Orleans 
civilization,  and  whether  its  point  of  view  is  right  or 
wrong,  I  am  very  far  from  wishing  it  to  change.  It 
contains  a  valuable  element  of  variety  for  the  repub 
lic.  We  tend  everywhere  to  sameness  and  monotony. 
New  Orleans  is  entering  upon  a  new  era  of  develop 
ment,  especially  in  educational  life.  The  Toulane 
University  is  beginning  to  make  itself  felt  as  a  force 
both  in  polite  letters  and  in  industrial  education. 
And  I  sincerely  hope  that  the  literary  development  of 
the  city  and  of  the  South-west  will  be  in  the  line  of 
its  own  traditions,  and  that  it  will  not  be  a  copy  of 
New  England  or  of  Dutch  Manhattan.  It  can,  if  it 
is  faithful  to  its  own  sympathies  and  temperament, 
make  an  original  and  valuable  contribution  to  our  lit 
erary  life. 


New  Orleans.  49 

There  is  a  great  temptation  to  regard  New  Orleans 
through  the  romance  of  its  past;  and  the  most  inter 
esting  occupation  of  the  idler  is  to  stroll  about  in  the 
French  part  of  the  town,  search  the  shelves  of  French 
and  Spanish  literature  in  the  second-hand  book-shops, 
try  to  identify  the  historic  sites  and  the  houses  that 
are  the  seats  of  local  romances,  and  observe  the  life 
in  the  narrow  streets  and  alleys  that,  except  for  the 
presence  of  the  colored  folk,  recall  the  quaint  pictu- 
resqueness  of  many  a  French  provincial  town.  One 
never  tires  of  wandering  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
old  cathedral,  facing  the  smart  Jackson  Square,  which 
is  flanked  by  the  respectable  Pontalba  buildings,  and 
supported  on  either  side  by  the  ancient  Spanish  court 
house,  the  most  interesting  specimens  of  Spanish  ar 
chitecture  this  side  of  Mexico.  When  the  court  is  in 
session,  iron  cables  are  stretched  across  the  street  to 
prevent  the  passage  of  wagons,  and  justice  is  admin 
istered  in  silence  only  broken  by  the  trill  of  birds  in 
the  Place  d'Armes  and  in  the  old  flower-garden  in 
the  rear  of  the  cathedral,  and  by  the  muffled  sound 
of  footsteps  in  the  flagged  passages.  The  region  is 
saturated  with  romance,  and  so  full  of  present  senti 
ment  and  picturesqueness  that  I  can  fancy  no  ground 
more  congenial  to  the  artist  and  the  story-teller.  To 
enter  into  any  details  of  it  would  be  to  commit  one's 
self  to  a  task  quite  foreign  to  the  purpose  of  this  pa 
per,  and  I  leave  it  to  the  writers  who  have  done  and 
are  doing  so  much  to  make  old  New  Orleans  classic. 

Possibly  no   other   city  of  the   United  States   so 

abounds  in  stories  pathetic  and  tragic,  many  of  which 

cannot  yet  be  published,  growing  out  of  the  mingling 

of  races,  the  conflicts  of  French  and  Spanish,  the  pres- 

4 


50  South  and  West. 

ence  of  adventurers  from  the  Old  World  and  the 
Spanish  Main,  and  especially  out  of  the  relations  be 
tween  the  whites  and  the  fair  women  who  had  in  their 
thin  veins  drops  of  African  blood.  The  quadroon 
and  the  octoroon  are  the  staple  of  hundreds  of  thrill 
ing  tales.  Duels  were  common  incidents  of  the  Cre 
ole  dancing  assemblies,  and  of  the  cordon  bleu  balls — 
the  deities  of  which  were  the  quadroon  women,  "  the 
handsomest  race  of  women  in  the  world,"  says  the 
description,  and  the  most  splendid  dancers  and  the 
most  exquisitely  dressed — the  affairs  of  honor  being 
settled  by  a  midnight  thrust  in  a  vacant  square  be 
hind  the  cathedral,  or  adjourned  to  a  more  French 
daylight  encounter  at  "  The  Oaks,"  or  "  Les  Trois 
Capalins."  But  this  life  has  all  gone.  In  a  stately 
building  in  this  quarter,  said  by  tradition  to  have  been 
the  quadroon  ball-room,  but  I  believe  it  was  a  white 
assembly-room  connected  with  the  opera,  is  now  a 
well-ordered  school  for  colored  orphans,  presided  over 
by  colored  Sisters  of  Charity. 

It  is  quite  evident  that  the  peculiar  prestige  of  the 
quadroon  and  the  octoroon  is  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Indeed,  the  result  of  the  war  has  greatly  changed  the 
relations  of  the  two  races  in  ISTew  Orleans.  The  col 
ored  people  withdraw  more  and  more  to  themselves. 
Isolation  from  white  influence  has  good  results  and 
bad  results,  the  bad  being,  as  one  can  see,  in  some 
quarters  of  the  town,  a  tendency  to  barbarism,  which 
can  only  be  counteracted  by  free  public  schools,  and 
by  a  necessity  which  shall  compel  them  to  habits  of 
thrift  and  industry.  One  needs  to  be  very  much  an 
optimist,  however,  to  have  patience  for  these  develop 
ments. 


New  Orleans.  51 

I  believe  there  is  an  instinct  in  both  races  against 
mixture  of  blood,  and  upon  this  rests  the  law  of 
Louisiana,  which  forbids  such  intermarriages ;  the 
time  may  come  when  the  colored  people  will  be  as 
strenuous  in  insisting  upon  its  execution  as  the  whites, 
unless  there  is  a  great  change  in  popular  feeling,  of 
which  there  is  no  sign  at  present ;  it  is  they  who  will 
see  that  there  is  no  escape  from  the  equivocal  posi 
tion  in  which  those  nearly  white  in  appearance  find 
themselves  except  by  a  rigid  separation  of  races. 
The  danger  is  of  a  reversal  at  any  time  to  the  origi 
nal  type,  and  that  is  always  present  to  the  offspring 
of  any  one  with  a  drop  of  African  blood  in  the  veins. 
The  pathos  of  this  situation  is  infinite,  and  it  cannot 
be  lessened  by  saying  that  the  prejudice  about  color 
is  unreasonable  ;  it  exists.  Often  the  African  strain 
is  so  attenuated  that  the  possessor  of  it  would  pass  to 
the  ordinary  observer  for  Spanish  or  French  ;  and  I 
suppose  that  many  so-called  Creole  peculiarities  of 
speech  and  manner  are  traceable  to  this  strain.  An 
incident  in  point  may  not  be  uninteresting. 

I  once  lodged  in  the  old  French  quarter  in  a  house 
kept  by  two  maiden  sisters,  only  one  of  whom  spoke 
English  at  all.  They  were  refined,  and  had  the  air  of 
decayed  gentlewomen.  The  one  who  spoke  English 
had  the  vivacity  and  agreeability  of  a  Paris  landlady, 
without  the  latter's  invariable  hardness  and  sharpness. 
I  thought  I  had  found  in  her  pretty  mode  of  speech 
the  real  Creole  dialect  of  her  class.  "  You  are  French," 
I  said,  when  I  engaged  my  room. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  no,  m'sieu,  I  am  an  American ;  we 
are  of  the  United  States,"  with  the  air  of  informing  a 
stranger  that  New  Orleans  was  now  annexed. 


52  South  and  West. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  but  you  are  of  French  de 
scent  ?" 

"  Oh,  and  a  little  Spanish." 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  madame,"  I  asked,  one  Sunday 
morning,  "  the  way  to  Trinity  Church  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,  m'sieu ;  it  is  somewhere  the  other 
side  ;  I  do  not  know  the  other  side." 

"But  have  you  never  been  the  other  side  of  Canal 
Street  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  went  once,  to  make  a  visit  on  a  friend 
on  New- Year's." 

I  explained  that  it  was  far  uptown,  and  a  Protes 
tant  church. 

"M'sieu,  is  he  Cat'olic?" 

"  Oh  no  ;  I  am  a  Protestant." 

"Well,  me,  I  am  Cat'olic;  but  Protestan'  o'  Cat'o 
lic,  it  is  'mos'  ze  same." 

This  was  purely  the  instinct  of  politeness,  and  that 
my  feelings  might  not  be  wounded,  for  she  was  a 
good  Catholic,  and  did  not  believe  at  all  that  it  was 
"  'mos'  ze  same." 

It  was  Exposition  year,  and  then  April,  and  madame 
had  never  been  to  the  Exposition.  I  urged  her  to  go, 
and  one  day,  after  great  preparation  for  a  journey  to 
the  other  side,  she  made  the  expedition,  and  returned 
enchanted  with  all  she  had  seen,  especially  with  the 
Mexican  band.  A  new  world  was  opened  to  her,  and 
she  resolved  to  go  again.  The  morning  of  Louisiana 
Day  she  rapped  at  my  door  and  informed  me  that  she 
was  going  to  the  fair.  "And" — she  paused  at  the 
door-way,  her  eyes  sparkling  with  her  new  project — 
"  you  know  what  I  goin'  do  ?" 

"No." 


New  Orleans.  53 

"  I  goin'  get  one  big  bouquet,  and  give  to  the  lead 
er  of  the  orchestre." 

"  You  know  him,  the  leader  ?" 

"  No,  not  yet," 

I  did  not  know  then  how  poor  she  was,  and  how 
much  sacrifice  this  would  be  to  her,  this  gratification 
of  a  sentiment. 

The  next  year,  in  the  same  month,  I  asked  for  her 
at  the  lodging.  She  was  not  there.  "  You  did  not 
know,"  said  the  woman  then  in  possession — "  good 
God  !  her  sister  died  four  days  ago,  from  want  of 
food,  and  madame  has  gone  away  back  of  town,  no 
body  knows  where.  They  told  nobody,  they  were  so 
proud;  none  of  their  friends  knew,  or  they  would  have 
helped.  They  had  no  lodgers,  and  could  not  keep 
this  place,  and  took  another  opposite;  but  they  were 
unlucky,  and  the  sheriff  came."  I  said  that  I  was 
very  sorry  that  I  had  not  known  ;  she  might  have 
been  helped.  "  No,"  she  replied,  with  considerable 
spirit;  "she  would  have  accepted  nothing;  she  would 
starve  rather.  So  would  I."  The  woman  referred 
me  to  some  well-known  Creole  families  who  knew 
madame,  but  I  was  unable  to  find  her  hiding-place. 
I  asked  who  madame  was.  "  Oh,  she  was  a  very  nice 
woman,  very  respectable.  Her  father  was  Spanish, 
her  mother  was  an  octoroon." 

One  does  not  need  to  go  into  the  past  of  New  Or 
leans  for  the  picturesque;  the  streets  have  their  pe 
culiar  physiognomy,  and  "character"  such  as  the 
artists  delight  to  depict  is  the  result  of  the  extraordi 
nary  mixture  of  races  and  the  habit  of  out-door  life. 
The  long  summer,  from  April  to  November,  with  a 
heat  continuous,  though  rarely  so  excessive  as  it  oc- 


54:  South  and  West. 

casionally  is  in  higher  latitudes,  determines  the  mode 
of  life  and  the  structure  of  the  houses,  and  gives  a 
leisurely  and  amiable  tone  to  the  aspect  of  people  and 
streets  which  exists  in  few  other  American  cities. 
The  French  quarter  is  out  of  repair,  and  has  the  air 
of  being  for  rent;  but  in  fact  there  is  comparatively 
little  change  in  occupancy,  Creole  families  being  re 
markably  adhesive  to  localities.  The  stranger  who 
sees  all  over  the  French  and  the  business  parts  of  the 
town  the  immense  number  of  lodging-houses — some 
of  them  the  most  stately  old  mansions  —  let  largely 
by  colored  landladies,  is  likely  to  underestimate  the 
home  life  of  this  city.  New  Orleans  soil  is  so  wet 
that  the  city  is  without  cellars  for  storage,  and  its 
court-yards  and  odd  corners  become  catch-alls  of  bro 
ken  furniture  and  other  lumber.  The  solid  window- 
shutters,  useful  in  the  glare  of  the  long  summer,  give 
a  blank  appearance  to  the  streets.  This  is  relieved, 
however,  by  the  queer  little  Spanish  houses,  and  by 
the  endless  variety  of  galleries  and  balconies.  In  one 
part  of  the  town  the  iron-work  of  the  balconies  is  cast, 
and  uninteresting  in  its  set  patterns;  in  French-town 
much  of  it  is  hand-made,  exquisite  in  design,  and  gives 
to  a  street  vista  a  delicate  lace-work  appearance.  I 
do  not  know  any  foreign  town  which  has  on  view  so 
much  exquisite  wrought-iron  work  as  the  old  part  of 
New  Orleans.  Besides  the  balconies,  there  are  re 
cessed  galleries,  old  dormer-windows,  fantastic  little 
nooks  and  corners,  tricked  out  with  flower-pots  and 
vines. 

The  glimpses  of  street  life  are  always  entertaining, 
because  unconscious,  while  full  of  character.  It  may 
be  a  Creole  court-yard,  the  walls  draped  with  vines, 


New  Orleans.  55 

flowers  blooming  in  hap-hazard  disarray,  and  a  group 
of  pretty  girls  sewing  and  chatting,  and  stabbing  the 
passer-by  with  a  charmed  glance.  It  may  be  a  cotton 
team  in  the  street,  the  mules,  the  rollicking  driver,  the 
creaking  cart.  It  may  be  a  single  figure,  or  a  group 
in  the  market  or  on  the  levee — a  slender  yellow  girl 
sweeping  up  the  grains  of  rice,  a  colored  gleaner  re 
calling  Ruth;  an  ancient  darky  asleep,  with  mouth 
open,  in  his  tipped-up  two- wheeled  cart,  waiting  for  a 
job;  the  "  solid  South,"  in  the  shape  of  an  immense 
"  aunty  "  under  a  red  umbrella,  standing  and  contem 
plating  the  river;  the  broad-faced  women  in  gay  ban 
dannas  behind  their  cake -stands;  a  group  of  levee 
hands  about  a  rickety  table,  taking  their  noonday 
meal  of  pork  and  greens;  the  blind-man,  capable  of 
sitting  more  patiently  than  an  American  Congress 
man,  with  a  dog  trained  to  hold  his  basket  for  the 
pennies  of  the  charitable;  the  black  stalwart  vender 
of  tin  and  iron  utensils,  who  totes  in  a  basket,  and 
piled  on  his  head,  and  strung  on  his  back,  a  weight  of 
over  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds;  and  negro  women 
who  walk  erect  with  baskets  of  clothes  or  enormous 
bundles  balanced  on  their  heads,  smiling  and  "  jaw 
ing,"  unconscious  of  their  burdens.  These  are  the  fa 
miliar  figures  of  a  street  life  as  varied  and  picturesque 
as  the  artist  can  desire. 

New  Orleans  amuses  itself  in  the  winter  with  very 
good  theatres,  and  until  recently  has  sustained  an  ex 
cellent  French  opera.  It  has  all  the  year  round  plen 
ty  of  cafes  chantants,  gilded  saloons,  and  gambling- 
houses,  and  more  than  enough  of  the  resorts  upon 
which  the  police  are  supposed  to  keep  one  blind  eye. 
"  Back  of  town,"  towards  Lake  Pontchartrain,  there  is 


56  South  and  West 

much  that  is  picturesque  and  blooming,  especially  in 
the  spring  of  the  year — the  charming  gardens  of  the 
Jockey  Club,  the  City  Park,  the  old  duelling-ground 
with  its  superb  oaks,  and  the  Bayou  St.  John  with  its 
idling  fishing-boats,  and  the  colored  houses  and  plan 
tations  along  the  banks — a  piece  of  Holland  wanting 
the  Dutch  windmills.  On  a  breezy  day  one  may  go 
far  for  a  prettier  sight  than  the  river-bank  and  es 
planade  at  Carrollton,  where  the  mighty  coffee-colored 
flood  swirls  by,  where  the  vast  steamers  struggle  and 
cough  against  the  stream,  or  swiftly  go  with  it  round 
the  bend,  leaving  their  trail  of  smoke,  and  the  delicate 
line  of  foliage  against  the  sky  on  the  far  opposite 
shore  completes  the  outline  of  an  exquisite  landscape. 
Suburban  resorts  much  patronized,  and  reached  by 
frequent  trains,  are  the  old  Spanish  Fort  and  the  West 
End  of  Lake  Pontchartrain.  The  way  lies  through 
cypress  swamp  and  j^lmetto  thickets,  brilliant  at  cer 
tain  seasons  \\ii\\fleur-de-lis.  At  each  of  these  resorts 
are  restaurants,  dancing-halls,  promenade-galleries,  all 
on  a  large  scale;  boat-houses,  and  semi-tropical  gardens 
very  prettily  laid  out  in  walks  and  labyrinths,  and 
adorned  with  trees  and  flowers.  Even  in  the  heat  of 
summer  at  night  the  lake  is  sure  to  offer  a  breeze,  and 
with  waltz  music  and  moonlight  and  ices  and  tinkling 
glasses  with  straws  in  them  and  love's  young  dream, 
even  the  ennuye  globe-trotter  declares  that  it  is  not 
half  bad. 

The  city,  indeed,  offers  opportunity  for  charming 
excursions  in  all  directions.  Parties  are  constantly 
made  up  to  visit  the  river  plantations,  to  sail  up  and 
down  the  stream,  or  to  take  an  outing  across  the  lake, 
or  to  the  many  lovely  places  along  the  coast.  In  the 


New  Orleans.  57 

winter,  excursions  are  made  to  these  places,  and  in 
summer  the  well-to-do  take  the  sea-air  in  cottages,  at 
such  places  as  Mandeville  across  the  lake,  or  at  such 
resorts  on  the  Mississippi  as  Pass  Christian. 

I  crossed  the  lake  one  spring  day  to  the  pretty 
town  of  Mandeville,  and  then  sailed  up  the  Tche- 
functa  River  to  Covington.  The  winding  Tchefunc- 
ta  is  in  character  like  some  of  the  narrow  Florida 
streams,  has  the  same  luxuriant  overhanging  foliage, 
and  as  many  shy  lounging  alligators  to  the  mile,  and 
is  prettier  by  reason  of  occasional  open  glades  and 
large  moss-draped  live-oaks  and  China-trees.  From 
the  steamer  landing  in  the  woods  we  drove  three 
miles  through  a  lovely  open  pine  forest  to  the  town. 
Covington  is  one  of  the  oldest  settlements  in  the 
State,  is  the  centre  of  considerable  historic  interest, 
and  the  origin  of  several  historic  families.  The  land 
is  elevated  a  good  deal  above  the  coast-level,  and  is 
consequently  dry.  The  town  has  a  few  roomy  old- 
time  houses,  a  mineral  spring,  some  pleasing  scenery 
along  the  river  that  winds  through  it,  and  not  much 
else.  But  it  is  in  the  midst  of  pine  woods,  it  is  shel 
tered  from  all  "  northers,"  it  has  the  soft  air,  but  not 
the  dampness,  of  the  Gulf,  and  is  exceedingly  salubri 
ous  in  all  the  winter  months,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
summer.  It  has  lately  come  into  local  repute  as  a 
health  resort,  although  it  lacks  sufficient  accommoda 
tions  for  the  entertainment  of  many  strangers.  I  was 
told  by  some  New  Orleans  physicians  that  they  re 
garded  it  as  almost  a  specific  for  pulmonary  diseases, 
and  instances  were  given  of  persons  in  what  was  sup 
posed  to  be  advanced  stages  of  lung  and  bronchial 
troubles  who  had  been  apparently  cured  by  a  few 


58  South  and  West. 

months'  residence  there ;  and  invalids  are,  I  believe, 
greatly  benefited  by  its  healing,  soft,  and  piny  atmos 
phere. 

I  have  no  doubt,  from  what  I  hear  and  my  limited 
observation,  that  all  this  coast  about  New  Orleans 
would  be  a  favorite  winter  resort  if  it  had  hotels  as 
good  as,  for  instance,  that  at  Pass  Christian.  The  re 
gion  has  many  attractions  for  the  idler  and  the  inva 
lid.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  interesting;  it  has  a  good 
deal  of  variety  of  scenery  and  of  historical  interest; 
there  is  excellent  fishing  and  shooting;  and  if  the  vis 
itor  tires  of  the  monotony  of  the  country,  he  can  by  a 
short  ride  on  cars  or  a  steamer  transfer  himself  for  a 
day  or  a  wreek  to  a  large  and  most  hospitable  city,  to 
society,  the  club,  the  opera,  balls,  parties,  and  every 
variety  of  life  that  his  taste  craves.  The  disadvan 
tage  of  many  Southern  places  to  which  our  Northern 
regions  force  us  is  that  they  are  uninteresting,  stupid, 
and  monotonous,  if  not  malarious.  It  seems  a  long 
way  from  New  York  to  New  Orleans,  but  I  do  not 
doubt  that  the  region  around  the  city  would  become 
immediately  a  great  winter  resort  if  money  and  en 
terprise  were  enlisted  to  make  it  so. 

New  Orleans  has  never  been  called  a  "strait-laced" 
city;  its  Sunday  is  still  of  the  Continental  type;  but 
it  seems  to  me  free  from  the  socialistic  agnosticism 
which  flaunts  itself  more  or  less  in  Cincinnati,  St. 
Louis,  and  Chicago;  the  tone  of  leading  Presbyterian 
churches  is  distinctly  Calvinistic,  one  perceives  com 
paratively  little  of  religious  speculation  and  doubt, 
and  so  far  as  I  could  see  there  is  harmony  and  entire 
social  good  feeling  between  the  Catholic  and  Protes 
tant  communions.  Protestant  ladies  assist  at  Catho- 


New  Orleans.  59 

lie  fairs,  and  the  compliment  is  returned  by  the  soci 
ety  ladies  of  the  Catholic  faith  when  a  Protestant 
good  cause  is  to  be  furthered  by  a  bazaar  or  a  "  pink 
tea."  Denominational  lines  seem  to  have  little  to  do 
with  social  affiliations.  There  may  be  friction  in  the 
management  of  the  great  public  charities,  but  on  the 
surface  there  is  toleration  and  united  good-will.  The 
Catholic  faith  long  had  the  prestige  of  wealth,  family, 
and  power,  and  the  education  of  the  daughters  of 
Protestant  houses  in  convent  schools  tended  to  allay 
prejudice.  Notwithstanding  the  reputation  New  Or 
leans  has  for  gayety  and  even  frivolity — and  no  one 
can  deny  the  fast  and  furious  living  of  ante-bellum 
days — it  possesses  at  bottom  an  old-fashioned  relig 
ious  simplicity.  If  any  one  thinks  that  "faith"  has 
died  out  of  modern  life,  let  him  visit  the  mortuary 
chapel  of  St.  Roch.  In  a  distant  part  of  the  town, 
beyond  the  street  of  the  Elysian  Fields,  and  on  Wash 
ington  Avenue,  in  a  district  very  sparsely  built  up,  is 
the  Campo  Santo  of  the  Catholic  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  In  this  foreign  -  looking  cemetery  is  the 
pretty  little  Gothic  Chapel  of  St.  Roch,  having  a  back 
ground  of  common  and  swampy  land.  It  is  a  brown 
stuccoed  edifice,  wholly  open  in  front,  and  was  a  year 
or  two  ago  covered  with  beautiful  ivy.  The  small 
interior  is  paved  in  white  marble,  the  windows  are 
stained  glass,  the  side  walls  are  composed  of  tiers  of 
vaults,  where  are  buried  the  members  of  certain  soci 
eties,  and  the  spaces  in  the  wall  and  in  the  altar  area 
are  thickly  covered  with  votive  offerings,  in  wax  and 
in  na'ive  painting — contributed  by  those  who  have 
been  healed  by  the  intercession  of  the  saints.  Over 
the  altar  is  the  shrine  of  St.  Roch — a  cavalier,  staff  in 


60  South  and  West. 

hand,  with  his  dog  by  his  side,  the  faithful  animal 
which  accompanied  this  eighth-century  philanthropist 
in  his  visitations  to  the  plague-stricken  people  of  Mu 
nich.  Within  the  altar  rail  are  rows  of  lighted  can 
dles,  tended  and  renewed  by  the  attendant,  placed 
there  by  penitents  or  by  seekers  after  the  favor  of  the 
saint.  On  the  wooden  benches,  kneeling,  are  ladies, 
servants,  colored  women,  in  silent  prayer.  One  ap 
proaches  the  lighted,  picturesque  shrine  through  the 
formal  rows  of  tombs,  and  comes  there  into  an  atmos 
phere  of  peace  and  faith.  It  is  believed  that  miracles 
are  daily  wrought  here,  and  one  notices  in  all  the 
gardeners,  keepers,  and  attendants  of  the  place  the 
accent  and  demeanor  of  simple  faith.  On  the  wall 
hangs  this  inscription: 

"  0  great  St.  Roch,  deliver  us,  we  beseech  thee,  from  the  scourges  of 
God.  Through  thy  intercessions  preserve  our  bodies  from  contagious 
diseases,  and  our  souls  from  the  contagion  of  sin.  Obtain  for  us  sa 
lubrious  air;  but,  above  all,  purity  of  heart.  Assist  us  to  make  good 
use  of  health,  to  bear  suffering  with  patience,  and  after  thy  example 
to  live  in  the  practice  of  penitence  and  charity,  that  we  may  one  day 
enjoy  the  happiness  which  thou  hast  merited  by  thy  virtues. 

"  St.  Roch,  pray  for  us. 

"  St.  Roch,  pray  for  us. 

"  St.  Roch,  pray  for  us." 

There  is  testimony  that  many  people,  even  Protes 
tants,  and  men,  have  had  wounds  cured  and  been 
healed  of  diseases  by  prayer  in  this  chapel.  To  this 
distant  shrine  come  ladies  from  all  parts  of  the  city 
to  make  the  "  novena  " — the  prayer  of  nine  days,  with 
the  offer  of  the  burning  taper — and  here  daily  resort 
hundreds  to  intercede  for  themselves  or  their  friends. 
It  is  believed  by  the  damsels  of  this  district  that  if 


New  Orleans.  61 

they  offer  prayer  daily  in  this  chapel  they  will  have  a 
husband  within  the  year,  and  one  may  see  kneeling 
here  every  evening  these  trustful  devotees  to  the  wel 
fare  of  the  human  race.  I  asked  the  colored  woman 
who  sold  medals  and  leaflets  and  renewed  the  candles 
if  she  personally  knew  any  persons  who  had  been  mi 
raculously  cured  by  prayer,  or  novena,  in  St.  Roch. 
"  Plenty,  sir,  plenty."  And  she  related  many  in 
stances,  which  were  confirmed  by  votive  offerings  on 
the  walls.  "  Why,"  said  she,  "  there  was  a  friend  of 
mine  who  wanted  a  place,  and  could  hear  of  none, 
who  made  a  novena  here,  and  right  away  got  a  place, 
a  good  place,  and  "  (conscious  that  she  was  making  an 
astonishing  statement  about  a  New  Orleans  servant) 
"  she  kept  it  a  whole  year  !" 

"But  one  must  come  in  the  right  spirit,"  I  said. 

"Ah,  indeed.  It  needs  to  believe.  You  can't  fool 
God !» 

One  might  make  various  studies  of  New  Orleans : 
its  commercial  life;  its  methods,  more  or  less  anti 
quated,  of  doing  business,  and  the  leisure  for  talk  that 
enters  into  it;  its  admirable  charities  and  its  mediaeval 
prisons;  its  romantic  French  and  Spanish  history,  still 
lingering  in  the  old  houses,  and  traits  of  family  and 
street  life ;  the  city  politics,  which  nobody  can  ex 
plain,  and  no  other  city  need  covet;  its  sanitary  con 
dition,  which  needs  an  intelligent  despot  with  plenty 
of  money  and  an  ingenuity  that  can  make  water  run 
uphill ;  its  colored  population — about  a  fourth  of  the 
city — with  its  distinct  social  grades,  its  superstition, 
nonchalant  good-humor,  turn  for  idling  and  basking 
in  the  sun,  slowly  awaking  to  a  sense  of  thrift,  chas 
tity,  truth-speaking,  with  many  excellent  order-loving, 


62  South  and  West. 

patriotic  men  and  women,  but  a  mass  that  needs  moral 
training  quite  as  much  as  the  spelling-book  before  it 
can  contribute  to  the  vigor  and  prosperity  of  the  city ; 
its  schools  and  recent  libraries,  and  the  developing 
literary  and  art  taste  which  will  sustain  book-shops 
and  picture-galleries;  its  cuisine,  peculiar  in  its  min 
gling  of  French  and  African  skill,  and  determined 
largely  by  a  market  unexcelled  in  the  quality  of  fish, 
game,  and  fruit — the  fig  alone  would  go  far  to  recon 
cile  one  to  four  or  five  months  of  hot  nights;  the  cli 
matic  influence  in  assimilating  races  meeting  there 
from  every  region  of  the  earth. 

But  whatever  way  we  regard  New  Orleans,,  it  is  in 
its  aspect,  social  tone,  and  character  sui  generis;  its 
civilization  differs  widely  from  that  of  any  other,  and 
it  remains  one  of  the  most  interesting  places  in  the 
republic.  Of  course,  social  life  in  these  days  is  much 
the  same  in  all  great  cities  in  its  observances,  but  that 
of  New  Orleans  is  markedly  cordial,  ingenuous,  warm 
hearted.  I  do  not  imagine  that  it  could  tolerate,  as 
Boston  does,  absolute  freedom  of  local  opinion  on  all 
subjects,  and  undoubtedly  it  is  sensitive  to  criticism; 
but  I  believe  that  it  is  literally  true,  as  one  of  its  citi 
zens  said,  that  it  is  still  more  sensitive  to  kindness. 

The  metropolis  of  the  South-west  has  geographical 
reasons  for  a  great  future.  Louisiana  is  rich  in  allu 
vial  soil,  the  capability  of  which  has  not  yet  been  test 
ed,  except  in  some  localities,  by  skilful  agriculture. 
But  the  prosperity  of  the  city  depends  much  upon 
local  conditions.  Science  and  energy  can  solve  the 
problem  of  drainage,  can  convert  all  the  territory  be 
tween  the  city  and  Lake  Pontchartrain  into  a  verita 
ble  garden,  surpassing  in  fertility  the  flat  environs  of 


New  Orleans.  63 

the  city  of  Mexico.  And  the  steady  development  of 
common-school  education,  together  with  technical  and 
industrial  schools,  will  create  a  skill  which  will  make 
New  Orleans  the  industrial  and  manufacturing  centre 
of  that  region. 


IV. 
A  VOUDOO   DANCE. 

THERE  was  nothing  mysterious  about  it.  The 
ceremony  took  place  in  broad  day,  at  noon  in  the 
upper  chambers  of  a  small  frame  house  in  a  street 
just  beyond  Congo  Square  and  the  old  Parish  prison 
in  New  Orleans.  It  was  an  incantation  rather  than  a 
dance — a  curious  mingling  of  African  Voudoo  rites 
with  modern  "  spiritualism  "  and  faith-cure. 

The  explanation  of  Voudooism  (or  Vaudouism) 
would  require  a  chapter  by  itself.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say  for  the  purpose  of  this  paper  that  the  barbaric 
rites  of  Voudooism  originated  with  the  Congo  and 
Guinea  negroes,  were  brought  to  San  Domingo,  and 
thence  to  Louisiana.  In  Hayti  the  sect  is  in  full  vig 
or,  and  its  midnight  orgies  have  reverted  more  and 
more  to  the  barbaric  original  in  the  last  twenty-five 
years.  The  wild  dance  and  incantations  are  accom 
panied  by  sacrifice  of  animals  and  occasionally  of  in 
fants,  and  with  cannibalism,  and  scenes  of  most  inde 
cent  license.  In  its  origin  it  is  serpent  worship.  The 
Voudoo  signifies  a  being  all-powerful  on  the  earth, 
who  is,  or  is  represented  by,  a  harmless  species  of 
serpent  (couleuvre),  and  in  this  belief  the  sect  per 
form  rites  in  which  the  serpent  is  propitiated.  In 
common  parlance,  the  chief  actor  is  called  the  Voudoo 
— if  a  man,  the  Voudoo  King  ;  if  a  woman,  the  Vou 
doo  Queen.  Some  years  ago  Congo  Square  was  the 


A  Voudoo  Dance.  65 

scene  of  the  weird  midnight  rites  of  this  sect,  as  un 
restrained  and  barbarous  as  ever  took  place  in  the 
Congo  country.  All  these  semi-public  performances 
have  been  suppressed,  and  all  private  assemblies  for 
this  worship  are  illegal,  and  broken  up  by  the  police 
when  discovered.  It  is  said  in  New  Orleans  that 
Voudooism  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  But  the  supersti 
tion  remains,  and  I  believe  that  very  few  of  the  col 
ored  people  in  New  Orleans  are  free  from  it — that  is, 
free  from  it  as  a  superstition.  Those  who  repudiate 
it,  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  regard  it  as  only 
evil,  still  ascribe  power  to  the  Voudoo,  to  some  ugly 
old  woman  or  man,  who  is  popularly  believed  to  have 
occult  power  (as  the  Italians  believe  in  the  "  evil- 
eye"),  can  cast  a  charm  and  put  the  victims  under  a 
spell,  or  by  incantations  relieve  them  from  it.  The 
power  of  the  Youdoo  is  still  feared  by  many  who  are 
too  intelligent  to  believe  in  it  intellectually.  That 
persons  are  still  Voudooed,  probably  few  doubt;  and 
that  people  are  injured  by  charms  secretly  placed  in 
their  beds,  or  are  bewitched  in  various  ways,  is  common' 
belief — more  common  than  the  Saxon  notion  that  it- 
is  ill-luck  to  see  the  new  moon  over  the  left  shoulder. 

Although  very  few  white  people  in  New  Orleans 
have  ever  seen  the  performance  I  shall  try  to  de 
scribe,  and  it  is  said  that  the  police  would  break  it 
up  if  they  knew  of  it,  it  takes  place  every,  Wednesday 
at  noon  at  the  house  where  I  saw  it ;  and  there  are- 
three  or  four  other  places  in  the  city  where  the  rites 
are  celebrated  sometimes  at  night.  Our  admission 
was  procured  through  a  friend  who  had,  I  suppose, 
vouched  for  our  good  intentions. 

We  were  received  in  the  living-rooms  of  the  house 
5 


66  South  and  West. 

on  the  ground-floor  by  the  "  doctor,"  a  good-looking 
mulatto  of  middle  age,  clad  in  a  white  shirt  with  gold 
studs,  linen  pantaloons,  and  list  slippers.  He  had  the 
simple-minded  shrewd  look  of  a  "  healing  medium." 
The  interior  was  neat,  though  in  some  confusion  ; 
among  the  rude  attempts  at  art  on  the  walls  was  the 
worst  chromo  print  of  General  Grant  that  was  prob 
ably  ever  made.  There  were  several  negroes  about 
the  door,  many  in  the  rooms  and  in  the  backyard, 
and  all  had  an  air  of  expectation  and  mild  excitement. 
After  we  had  satisfied  the  scruples  of  the  doctor,  and 
signed  our  names  in  his  register,  we  were  invited  to 
ascend  by  a  narrow,  crooked  stair-way  in  the  rear. 
This  led  to  a  small  landing  where  a  dozen  people 
might  stand,  and  from  this  a  door  opened  into  a 
chamber  perhaps  fifteen  feet  by  ten,  where  the  rites 
were  to  take  place  ;  beyond  this  was  a  small  bedroom. 
Around  the  sides  of  these  rooms  were  benches  and 
chairs,  and  the  close  quarters  were  already  well  filled. 

The  assembly  was  perfectly  orderly,  but  a  motley 
one,  and  the  women  largely  outnumbered  the  men. 
There  were  coal-black  negroes,  porters,  and  stevedores, 
fat  cooks,  slender  chamber-maids,  all  shades  of  com 
plexion,  yellow  girls  and  comely  quadroons,  most  of 
them  in  common  servant  attire,  but  some  neatly 
dressed.  And  among  them  were,  to  my  surprise,  sev 
eral  wThite  people. 

On  one  side  of  the  middle  room  where  we  sat  was 
constructed  a  sort  of  buffet  or  bureau,  used  as  an  altar. 
On  it  stood  an  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary  in  painted 
plaster,  about  two  feet  high,  flanked  by  lighted  can 
dles  and  a  couple  of  cruets,  with  some  other  small 
objects.  On  a  shelf  below  were  two  other  candles, 


A  Voudoo  Dance.  67 

and  on  this  shelf  and  the  floor  in  front  were  various 
offerings  to  be  used  in  the  rites — plates  of  apples, 
grapes,  bananas,  oranges  ;  dishes  of  sugar,  of  sugar 
plums  ;  a  dish  of  powdered  orris  root,  packages  of 
candles,  bottles  of  brandy  and  of  water.  Two  other 
lighted  candles  stood  on  the  floor,  and  in  front  an 
earthen  bowl.  The  clear  space  in  front  for  the 
dancer  was  not  more  than  four  or  five  feet  square. 

Some  time  was  consumed  in  preparations,  or  in 
waiting  for  the  worshippers  to  assemble.  From  con 
versation  with  those  near  me,  I  found  that  the  doctor 
had  a  reputation  for  healing  the  diseased  by  virtue  of 
his  incantations,  of  removing  "spells,"  of  finding  lost 
articles,  of  ministering  to  the  troubles  of  lovers,  and, 
in  short,  of  doing  very  much  what  clairvoyants  and 
healing  mediums  claim  to  do  in  what  are  called  civil 
ized  communities.  But  failing  to  get  a  very  intelli 
gent  account  of  the  expected  performance  from  the 
negro  woman  next  me,  I  moved  to  the  side  of  the  al 
tar  and  took  a  chair  next  a  girl  of  perhaps  twenty 
years  old,  whose  complexion  and  features  gave  evi 
dence  that  she  was  white.  Still,  finding  her  in  that 
company,  and  there  as  a  participant  in  the  Voudoo 
rites,  I  concluded  that  I  must  be  mistaken,  and  that 
she  must  have  colored  blood  in  her  veins.  Assuming 
the  privilege  of  an  inquirer,  I  asked  her  questions 
about  the  coming  performance,  and  in  doing  so  car 
ried  the  impression  that  she  was  kin  to  the  colored 
race.  But  I  was  soon  convinced,  from  her  manner 
and  her  replies,  that  she  was  pure  white.  She  was  a 
pretty,  modest  girl,  very  reticent,  well-bred,  polite, 
and  civil.  None  of  the  colored  people  seemed  to 
know  who  she  was,  but  she  said  she  had  been  there 


68  South  and  West. 

before.  She  told  me,  in  course  of  the  conversation, 
the  name  of  the  street  where  she  lived  (in  the  Amer 
ican  part  of  the  town),  the  private  school  at  which 
she  had  been  educated  (one  of  the  best  in  the  city), 
and  that  she  and  her  parents  were  Episcopalians. 
Whatever  her  trouble  was,  mental  or  physical,  she 
was  evidently  infatuated  with  the  notion  that  this 
Voudoo  doctor  could  conjure  it  away,  and  said  that 
she  thought  he  had  already  been  of  service  to  her. 
She  did  not  communicate  her  difficulties  to  him  or 
speak  to  him,  but  she  evidently  had  faith  that  ho 
could  discern  what  every  one  present  needed,  and 
minister  to  them.  When  I  asked  her  if,  with  her 
education,  she  did  not  think  that  more  good  would 
come  to  her  by  confiding  in  known  friends  or  in  regu 
lar  practitioners,  she  wearily  said  that  she  did  not 
know.  After  the  performance  began,  her  intense  in 
terest  in  it,  and  the  light  in  her  eyes,  were  evidence  of 
the  deep  hold  the  superstition  had  upon  her  nature. 
In  coming  to  this  place  she  had  gone  a  step  beyond 
the  young  ladies  of  her  class  who  make  a  novena  at 
St.  Roch. 

While  we  still  waited,  the  doctor  and  two  other 
colored  men  called  me  into  the  next  chamber,  and 
wanted  to  be  assured  that  it  was  my  own  namo  I  had 
written  on  the  register,  and  that  I  had  no  unfriendly 
intentions  in  being  present.  Their  doubts  at  rest, 
all  was  ready. 

The  doctor  squatted  on  one  side  of  the  altar,  and 
his  wife,  a  stout  woman  of  darker  hue,  on  the  other. 

"  Commenpons"  said  the  woman,  in  a  low  voice.  All 
the  colored  people  spoke  French,  and  French  only,  to 
each  other  and  in  the  ceremony. 


A  Voudoo  Dance.  69 

The  doctor  nodded,  bent  over,  and  gave  three  sharp 
raps  on  the  floor  with  a  bit  of  wood.  (This  is  the 
usual  opening  of  Voudoo  rites.)  All  the  others  rap 
ped  three  times  on  the  floor  with  their  knuckles.  Any 
one  coming  in  to  join  the  circle  afterwards,  stooped 
and  rapped  three  times.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
all  kneeled  and  repeated  together  in  French  the 
Apostles'  Creed,  and  still  on  their  knees,  they  said  two 
prayers  to  the  Virgin  Mary. 

The  colored  woman  at  the  side  of  the  altar  began  a 
chant  in  a  low,  melodious  voice.  It  was  the  weird 
and  strange  "Danse  Calinda."  A  tall  neeress,  with 

O  O  J 

a  bright,  good-natured  face,  entered  the  circle  with 
the  air  of  a  chief  performer,  knelt,  rapped  the  floor, 
laid  an  offering  of  candles  before  the  altar,  with  a 
small  bottle  of  brandy,  seated  herself  beside  the  sing 
er,  and  took  up  in  a  strong,  sweet  voice  the  bizarre 
rhythm  of  the  song.  Nearly  all  those  who  came  in 
had  laid  some  little  offering  before  the  altar.  The 
chant  grew,  the  single  line  wras  enunciated  in  stronger 
pulsations,  and  other  voices  joined  in  the  wild  refrain, 

"  Danse  Calinda,  boudoum,  boudoum .' 
Dans6  Calinda,  boudoum,  boudoum  !" 

bodies  swayed,  the  hands  kept  time  in  soft  patpatting, 
and  the  feet  in  muffled  accentuation.  The  Voudoo 
arose,  removed  his  slippers,  seized  a  bottle  of  brandy, 
dashed  some  of  the  liquid  on  the  floor  on  each  side  of 
the  brown  bowl  as  a  libation,  threw  back  his  head  and 
took  a  long  pull  at  the  bottle,  and  then  began  in  the 
open  space  a  slow  measured  dance,  a  rhythmical 
shuffle,  with  more  movement  of  the  hips  than  of  the 
feet,  backward  and  forward,  round  and  round,  but  ac- 


70  South  and  West. 

celerating  his  movement  as  the  time  of  the  song  quick 
ened  and  the  excitement  rose  in  the  room.  The  sing 
ing  became  wilder  and  more  impassioned,  a  strange 
minor  strain,  full  of  savage  pathos  and  longing,  that 
made  it  almost  impossible  for  the  spectator  not  to 
join  in  the  swing  of  its  influence,  while  the  dancer 
wrought  himself  up  into  the  wild  passion  of  a  Cairene 
dervish.  Without  a  moment  ceasing  his  rhythmical 
steps  and  his  extravagant  gesticulation,  he  poured 
liquid  into  the  basin,  and  dashing  in  brandy,  ignited 
the  fluid  with  a  match.  The  liquid  flamed  up  before 
the  altar.  He  seized  then  a  bunch  of  candles,  plunged 
them  into  the  bowl,  held  them  up  all  flaming  with  the 
burning  brandy,  and,  keeping  his  step  to  the  madden 
ing  "  Calinda,"  distributed  them  lighted  to  the  dev 
otees.  In  the  same  way  he  snatched  up  dishes  of 
apples,  grapes,  bananas,  oranges,  deluged  them  with 
burning  brandy,  and  tossed  them  about  the  room  to 
the  eager  and  excited  crowd.  His  hands  were  aflame, 
his  clothes  seemed  to  be  on  fire  ;  he  held  the  burning 
dishes  close  to  his  breast,  apparently  inhaling  the 
flame,  closing  his  eyes  and  swaying  his  head  back 
ward  and  forward  in  an  ecstasy,  the  hips  advancing 
and  receding,  the  feet  still  shuffling  to  the  barbaric 
measure. 

Every  moment  his  own  excitement  and  that  of  the 
audience  increased.  The  floor  was  covered  with  the 
debris  of  the  sacrifice — broken  candy,  crushed  sugar 
plums,  scattered  grapes — and  all  more  or  less  in  flame. 
The  wild  dancer  wTas  dancing  in  fire  !  In  the  height 
of  his  frenzy  he  grasped  a  large  plate  filled  with 
lump  -  sugar.  That  was  set  on  fire.  He  held  the 
burning  mass  to  his  breast,  he  swung  it  round,  and 


A  Voudoo  Dance.  71 

finally,  with  his  hand  extended  under  the  bottom  of 
the  plate  (the  plate  only  adhering  to  his  hand  by  the 
rapidity  of  his  circular  motion),  he  spun  around  like 
a  dancing  dervish,  his  eyes  shut,  the  perspiration  pour 
ing  in  streams  from  his  face,  in  a  frenzy.  The  flam 
ing  sugar  scattered  about  the  floor,  and  the  devotees 
scrambled  for  it.  In  intervals  of  the  dance,  though 
the  singing  went  on,  the  various  offerings  which  had 
been  conjured  were  passed  around — bits  of  sugar  and 
fruit  and  orris  powder.  That  which  fell  to  my  share 
I  gave  to  the  young  girl  next  me,  whose  eyes  were 
blazing  with  excitement,  though  she  had  remained 
perfectly  tranquil,  and  joined  neither  by  voice  or 
hands  or  feet  in  the  excitement.  She  put  the  con 
jured  sugar  and  fruit  in  her  pocket,  and  seemed  grate 
ful  to  me  for  relinquishing  it  to  her. 

Before  this  point  had  been  reached  the  chant  had 
been  changed  for  the  wild  canga,  more  rapid  in  move 
ment  than  the  chanson  africaine  : 

"  Eh !  eh !  Bomba,  hen !  hen ! 
Canga  bafio  te 
Canga  moune  (16  16 
Canga  do  Id  la 
Canga  li." 

At  intervals  during  the  performance,  when  the 
charm  had  begun  to  work,  the  believers  came  for 
ward  into  the  open  space,  and  knelt  for  "  treatment." 
The  singing,  the  dance,  the  wild  incantation,  went  on 
uninterruptedly;  but  amid  all  his  antics  the  dancer  had 
an  eye  to  business.  The  first  group  that  knelt  were 
four  stalwart  men,  three  of  them  white  laborers.  All 
of  them,  I  presume,  had  some  disease  which  they  had 
faith  the  incantation  would  drive  away.  Each  held  a 


72  South  and  West. 

lighted  candle  in  each  hand.  The  doctor  successively 
extinguished  each  candle  by  putting  it  in  his  mouth, 
and  performed  a  number  of  antics  of  a  saltatory  sort. 
During  his  dancing  and  whirling  he  frequently  filled 
his  mouth  with  liquid,  and  discharged  it  in  spray,  ex 
actly  as  a  Chinese  laundryman  sprinkles  his  clothes, 
into  the  faces  and  on  the  heads  of  any  man  or  woman 
within  reach.  Those  so  treated  considered  them 
selves  specially  favored.  Having  extinguished  the 
candles  of  the  suppliants,  he  scooped  the  liquid  from 
the  bowl,  flaming  or  not  as  it  might  be,  and  with  his 
hands  vigorously  scrubbed  their-  faces  and  heads,  as 
if  he  were  shampooing  them.  While  the  victim  was 
still  sputtering  and  choking  he  seized  him  by  the 
right  hand,  lifted  him  up,  spun  him  round  half  a 
dozen  times,  and  then  sent  him.  whirling. 

This  was  substantially  the  treatment  that  all  re 
ceived  who  knelt  in  the  circle,  though  sometimes  it 
was  more  violent.  Some  of  them  were  slapped  smart 
ly  upon  the  back  and  the  breast,  and  much  knocked 
about.  Occasionally  a  woman  was  whirled  till  she 
was  dizzy,  and  perhaps  swung  about  in  his  arms  as  if 
she  had  been  a  bundle  of  clothes.  They  all  took  it 
meekly  and  gratefully.  One  little  girl  of  twelve, 
who  had  rickets,  was  banged  about  till  it  seemed  as 
if  every  bone  in  her  body  would  be  broken.  But  the 
doctor  had  discrimination,  even  in  his  wildest  moods. 
Some  of  the  women  were  gently  whirled,  and  the 
conjurer  forbore  either  to  spray  them  from  his  mouth 
or  to  shampoo  them. 

Nearly  all  those  present  knelt,  and  were  whirled 
and  shaken,  and  those  who  did  not  take  this  "  cure  "  I 
suppose  got  the  benefit  of  the  incantation  by  carrying 


A  Voudoo  Dance.  73 

away  some  of  the  consecrated  offerings.  Occasion 
ally  a  woman  in  the  whirl  would  whisper  something 
in  the  doctor's  ear,  and  receive  from  him  doubtless 
the  counsel  she  needed.  But  generally  the  doctor 
made  no  inquiries  of  his  patients,  and  they  said  noth 
ing  to  him. 

While  the  wild  chanting,  the  rhythmic  movement 
of  hands  and  feet,  the  barbarous  dance,  and  the  fiery 
incantations  were  at  their  height,  it  was  difficult  to 
believe  that  we  were  in  a  civilized  city  of  an  enlight 
ened  republic.  Nothing  indecent  occurred  in  word 
or  gesture,  but  it  was  so  wild  and  bizarre  that  one 
might  easily  imagine  he  was  in  Africa  or  in  hell. 

As  I  said,  nearly  all  the  participants  were  colored 
people ;  but  in  the  height  of  the  frenzy  one  white 
woman  knelt  and  was  sprayed  and  whirled  with  the 
others.  She  was  a  respectable  married  woman  from 
the  other  side  of  Canal  Street.  I  waited  with  some 
anxiety  to  see  what  my  modest  little  neighbor  would 
do.  She  had  told  me  that  she  should  look  on  and 
take  no  part.  I  hoped  that  the  senseless  antics,  the 
mummery,  the  rough  treatment,  would  disgust  her. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  seance,  when  the  spells  were 
all  woven  and  the  flames  had  subsided,  the  tall,  good- 
natured  negress  motioned  to  me  that  it  was  my  turn 
to  advance  into  the  circle  and  kneel.  I  excused  my 
self.  But  the  young  girl  was  unable  to  resist  longer. 
She  went  forward  and  knelt,  with  a  candle  in  her 
hand.  The  conjurer  was  either  touched  by  her  youth 
and  race,  or  he  had  spent  his  force.  He  gently  lifted 
her  by  one  hand,  and  gave  her  one  turn  around,  and 
she  came  back  to  her  seat. 

The   singing    ceased.      The    doctor's   wife    passed 


74  South  aiid  West. 

round  the  hat  for  contributions,  and  the  ceremony, 
which  had  lasted  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half,  was 
over.  The  doctor  retired  exhausted  with  the  violent 
exertions.  As  for  the  patients,  I  trust  they  were  well 
cured  of  rheumatism,  of  fever,  or  whatever  ill  they 
had,  and  that  the  young  ladies  have  either  got  hus 
bands  to  their  minds  or  have  escaped  faithless  lovers. 
In  the  breaking  up  I  had  no  opportunity  to  speak  fur 
ther  to  the  interesting  young  white  neophyte;  but  as 
I  saw  her  resuming  her  hat  and  cloak  in  the  adjoin 
ing  room  there  wras  a  strange  excitement  in  her  face, 
and  in  her  eyes  a  light  of  triumph  and  faith.  We 
came  out  by  the  back  way,  and  through  an  alley 
made  our  escape  into  the  sunny  street  and  the  air  of 
the  nineteenth  century. 


Y. 
THE  ACADIAN  LAND. 

IF  one  crosses  the  river  from  New  Orleans  to  Al 
giers,  and  takes  Morgan's  Louisiana  and  Texas  Rail 
way  (now  a  part  of  the  Southern  Pacific  line),  he  will 
go  west,  with  a  dip  at  first  southerly,  and  will  pass 
through  a  region  little  attractive  except  to  water-fowl, 
snakes,  and  alligators,  by  an  occasional  rice  plantation, 
an  abandoned  indigo  field,  an  interminable  stretch  of 
cypress  swamps,  thickets  of  Spanish -bayonets,  black 
waters,  rank  and  rampant  vegetation,  vines,  and  water- 
plants  ;  by-and-by  firmer  arable  land,  and  cane  plan 
tations,  many  of  them  forsaken  and  become  thickets 
of  undergrowth,  owing  to  frequent  inundations  and 
the  low  price  of  sugar. 

At  a  distance  of  eighty  miles  Morgan  City  is  reach 
ed,  and  the  broad  Atchafalaya  Bayou  is  crossed. 
Hence  is  steamboat  communication  with  New  Orleans 
and  Yera  Cruz.  The  Atchafalaya  Bayou  has  its  ori 
gin  near  the  mouth  of  the  Red  River,  and  diverting 
from  the  Mississippi  most  of  that  great  stream,  it 
makes  its  tortuous  way  to  the  Gulf,  frequently  ex 
panding  into  the  proportions  of  a  lake,  and  giving  this 
region  a  great  deal  more  water  than  it  needs.  The 
Bayou  Teche,  which  is,  in  fact,  a  lazy  river,  wanders 
down  from  the  rolling  country  of  Washington  and 
Opelousas,  with  a  great  deal  of  uncertainty  of  pur 
pose,  but  mainly  south-easterly,  and  parallel  with  the 


76  South  and  West, 

Atchafalaya,  and  joins  tho  latter  at  Morgan  City. 
Steamers  of  good  size  navigate  it  as  far  as  New  Ibe 
ria,  some  forty  to  fifty  miles,  and  the  railway  follows 
it  to  the  latter  place,  within  sight  of  its  fringe  of  live- 
oaks  and  cotton-woods.  The  region  south  and  west 
of  the  Bayou  Teche,  a  vast  plain  cut  by  innumerable 
small  bayous  and  streams,  which  have  mostly  a  con 
nection  with  the  bay  of  Cote  Blanche  and  Vermilion 
Bay,  is  the  home  of  the  Nova  Scotia  Acadians. 

The  Acadians  in  1755  made  a  good  exchange,  little 
as  they  thought  so  at  the  time,  of  bleak  Nova  Scotia 
for  these  sunny,  genial,  and  fertile  lands.  They  came 
into  a  land  and  a  climate  suited  to  their  idiosyncra 
sies,  and  which  have  enabled  them  to  preserve  their 
primitive  traits.  In  a  comparative  isolation  from  the 
disturbing  currents  of  modern  life,  they  have  pre 
served  the  habits  and  customs  of  the  eighteenth  cen 
tury.  The  immigrants  spread  themselves  abroad 
among  those  bayous,  made  their  homes  wide  apart, 
and  the  traveller  will  nowhere  find — at  least  I  did  not 
— large  and  compact  communities  of  them,  unalloyed 
with  the  American  and  other  elements.  Indeed,  I  im 
agine  that  they  are  losing,  in  the  general  settlement 
of  the  country,  their  conspicuousness.  They  still  give 
the  tone,  however,  to  considerable  districts,  as  in  the 
village  and  neighborhood  of  Abbeville.  Some  places, 
like  the  old  town  of  St.  Martinsville,  on  the  Teche, 
once  the  social  capital  of  the  region,  an-d  entitled,  for 
its  wealth  and  gayety,  the  Petit  Paris,  had  a  large 
element  of  French  who  were  not  Acadians. 

The  Teche  from  Morgan  City  to  New  Iberia  is  a 
deep,  slow,  and  winding  stream,  flowing  through  a  flat 
region  of  sugar  plantations.  It  is  very  picturesque 


The  Acadian  Land.  77 

by  reason  of  its  tortuousness  and  the  great  spreading 
live-oak  trees,  moss -draped,  that  hang  over  it.  A 
voyage  on  it  is  one  of  the  most  romantic  entertain 
ments  offered  to  the  traveller.  The  scenery  is  peace 
ful,  and  exceedingly  pretty.  There  are  few  conspicu 
ous  plantations  with  mansions  and  sugar-stacks  of  any 
pretensions,  but  the  panorama  from  the  deck  of  the 
steamer  is  always  pleasing.  There  is  an  air  of  leisure 
and  "afternoon  "  about  the  expedition,  which  is  height 
ened  by  the  idle  case  of  the  inhabitants  lounging  at 
the  rude  wharves  and  landing-places,  and  the  patience 
of  the  colored  fishers,  boys  in  scant  raiment  and  wom 
en  in  sun-bonnets,  seated  on  the  banks.  Typical  of 
this  universal  contentment  is  the  ancient  colored  man 
stretched  on  a  plank  close  to  the  steamer's  boiler,  ob 
livious  of  the  heat,  apparently  asleep,  with  his  spacious 
mouth  wide  open,  but  softly  singing. 

"Are  you  asleep,  uncle  ?" 

"No,  not  adzackly  asleep,  boss.  I  jes  wake  up, 
and  thinkin'  how  good  de  Lord  is,  I  couldn't  help 
singin'." 

The  panorama  is  always  interesting.  There  are 
wide  silvery  expanses  of  water,  into  which  fall  the 
shadows  of  great  trees.  A  tug  is  dragging  along  a  tow 
of  old  rafts  composed  of  cypress  logs  all  water-soak 
ed,  green  with  weeds  and  grass,  so  that  it  looks  like  a 
floating  garden.  What  pictures  !  Clusters  of  oaks 
on  the  prairie;  a  picturesque  old  cotton-press;  a  house 
thatched  with  palmettoes ;  rice  -  fields  irrigated  by 
pumps;  darkies,  field-hands,  men  and  women,  hoeing 
in  the  cane-fields,  giving  stalwart  strokes  that  exhibit 
their  robust  figures ;  an  old  sugar  -  mill  in  ruin  and 
vine-draped;  an  old  begass  chimney  against  the  eky; 


78  South  and  West. 

an  antique  cotton-press  with  its  mouldering  roof  sup 
ported  on  timbers;  a  darky  on  a  mule  motionless  on 
the  bank,  clad  in  Attakapas  cloth,  his  slouch  hat  fall 
ing  about  his  head  like  a  roof  from  which  the  rafters 
have  been  withdrawn;  palmettoes,  oaks,  and  funereal 
moss  ;  lines  of  Spanish  -  bayonets  ;  rickety  wharves  ; 
primitive  boats  ;  spider  -  legged  bridges.  Neither  on 
the  Teche  nor  the  Atchafalaya,  nor  on  the  great  plain 
near  the  Mississippi,  fit  for  amphibious  creatures, 
where  one  standing  on  the  level  wonders  to  see  the 
wheels  of  the  vast  river  steamers  above  him,  appar 
ently  without  cause,  revolving,  is  there  any  lack  of  the 
picturesque. 

New  Iberia,  the  thriving  mart  of  the  region,  which 
has  drawn  away  the  life  from  St.  Martinsville,  ten 
miles  farther  up  the  bayou,  is  a  village  mainly  of 
small  frame  houses,  with  a  smart  court-house,  a  lively 
business  street,  a  few  pretty  houses,  and  some  old- 
time  mansions  on  the  bank  of  the  bayou,  half  smoth 
ered  in  old  rose  gardens,  the  ground  in  the  rear  slop 
ing  to  the  water  under  the  shade  of  gigantic  oaks. 
One  of  them,  which  with  its  outside  staircases  in  the 
pillared  gallery  suggests  Spanish  taste  on  the  outside, 
and  in  the  interior  the  arrangement  of  connecting 
rooms  a  French  chateau,  has  a  self-keeping  rose  gar 
den,  where  one  might  easily  become  sentimental ;  the 
vines  disport  themselves  like  holiday  children,  climb 
ing  the  trees,  the  side  of  the  house,  and  revelling  in 
an  abandon  of  color  and  perfume. 

The  population  is  mixed — Americans,  French,  Ital 
ians,  now  and  then  a  Spaniard  and  even  a  Mexican, 
occasionally  a  basket-making  Attakapas,  and  the  all- 
pervading  person  of  color.  The  darky  is  a  born  fish- 


The  Acadian  Land.  79 

erman,  in  places  where  fishing  requires  no  exertion, 
and  one  may  see  him.  any  hour  seated  on  the  banks 
of  the  Teche,  especially  the  boy  and  the  sun-bonneted 
woman,  placidly  holding  their  poles  over  the  muddy 
stream,  and  can  study,  if  he  like,  the  black  face  in  ex 
pectation  of  a  bite.  There  too  are  the  washer-women, 
with  their  tubs  and  a  plank  thrust  into  the  water, 
and  a  handkerchief  of  bright  colors  for  a  turban. 
These  people  somehow  never  fail  to  be  picturesque, 
whatever  attitude  they  take,  and  they  are  not  at  all 
self-conscious.  The  groups  on  Sunday  give  an  in 
terest  to  church-going — a  lean  white  horse,  with  a 
man,  his  wife,  and  boy  strung  along  its  backbone,  an 
aged  darky  and  his  wife  seated  in  a  cart,  in  stiff  Sun 
day  clothes  and  flaming  colors,  the  wheels  of  the  cart 
making  all  angles  with  the  ground,  and  wabbling  and 
creaking  along,  the  whole  party  as  proud  of  its  ap 
pearance  as  Julius  Ca3sar  in  a  triumph. 

I  drove  on  Sunday  morning  early  from  New  Iberia 
to  church  at  St.  Martinsville.  It  was  a  lovely  April 
morning.  The  way  lay  over  fertile  prairies,  past  fine 
cane  plantations,  with  some  irrigation,  and  for  a  dis 
tance  along  the  pretty  Teche,  shaded  by  great  live- 
oaks,  and  here  and  there  a  fine  magnolia-tree  ;  a  coun 
try  with  few  houses,  and  those  mostly  shanties,  but  a 
sunny,  smiling  land,  loved  of  the  birds.  We  passed 
on  our  left  the  Spanish  Lake,  a  shallow,  irregular 
body  of  water.  My  driver  was  an  ex-Confederate 
soldier,  whose  tramp  with  a  musket  through  Virginia 
had  not  greatly  enlightened  him  as  to  what  it  was  all 
about.  As  to  the  Acadians,  however,  he  had  a  de 
cided  opinion,  and  it  was  a  poor  one.  They  are  no 
good.  "  You  ask  them  a  question,  and  they  shrug 


80  South  and  West. 

their  shoulders  like  a  tarrapin — don't  know  no  more'n 
a  dead  alligator  ;  only  language  they  ever  have  is  ( no  ' 
and  'what?'" 

If  St.  Martins  ville,  once  the  seat  of  fashion,  retains 
anything  of  its  past  elegance,  its  life  has  departed 
from  it.  It  has  stopped  growing  anything  but  old, 
and  yet  it  has  not  much  of  interest  that  is  antique ;  it 
is  a  village  of  small  white  frame  houses,  with  three  or 
four  big  gaunt  brick  structures,  two  stories  and  a  half 
high,  with  galleries,  and  here  and  there  a  Creole  cot 
tage,  the  stairs  running  up  inside  the  galleries,  over 
which  roses  climb  in  profusion. 

I  went  to  breakfast  at  a  French  inn,  kept  by  Ma 
dame  Castillo,  a  large  red-brick  house  on  the  banks 
of  the  Teche,  where  the  live-oaks  cast  shadows  upon 
the  silvery  stream.  It  had,  of  course,  a  double  gal 
lery.  Below,  the  waiting-room,  dining-room,  and  gen 
eral  assembly-room  were  paved  with  brick,  and  instead 
of  a  door,  Turkey-red  curtains  hung  in  the  entrance, 
and  blowing  aside,  hospitably  invited  the  stranger 
Within.  The  breakfast  was  neatly  served,  the  house 
Was  scrupulously  clean,  and  the  guest  felt  the  influ 
ence  of  that  personal  hospitality  which  is  always  so 
pleasing.  Madame  offered  me  a  seat  in  her  pew  in 
church,  and  meantime  a  chair  on  the  upper  gallery, 
which  opened  from  large  square  sleeping  chambers. 
In  that  fresh  morning  I  thought  I  never  had  seen  a 
more  sweet  and  peaceful  place  than  this  gallery. 
Close  to  it  grew  graceful  China-trees  in  full  blossom 
and  odor;  up  and  down  the  Teche  were  charming 
views  under  the  oaks  ;  only  the  roofs  of  the  town 
could  be  seen  amid  the  foliage  of  China-trees ;  and 
there  was  an  atmosphere  of  repose  in  all  the  scene. 


The  Acadian  Land.  81 

It  was  Easter  morning.  I  felt  that  I  should  like  to 
linger  there  a  week  in  absolute  forgetfulness  of  the 
world.  French  is  the  ordinary  language  of  the  vil 
lage,  spoken  more  or  less  corruptly  by  all  colors. 

The  Catholic  church,  a  large  and  ugly  structure, 
stands  on  the  plaza,  which  is  not  at  all  like  a  Spanish 
plaza,  but  a  veritable  New  England  "green,"  with 
stores  and  shops  on  all  sides — New  England,  except 
that  the  shops  are  open  on  Sunday.  In  the  church 
apse  is  a  noted  and  not  bad  painting  of  St.  Martin, 
and  at  the  bottom  of  one  aisle  a  vast  bank  of  black 
stucco  clouds,  with  the  Virgin  standing  on  them,  and 
the  legend,  "Je  suis  Vimmaculee  conception" 

Country  people  were  pouring  into  town  for  the 
Easter  service  and  festivities  —  more  blacks  than 
whites  —  on  horseback  and  in  rickety  carriages,  and 
the  horses  were  hitched  on  either  side  of  the  church. 
Before  service  the  square  was  full  of  lively  young  col 
ored  lads  cracking  Easter-eggs.  Two  meet  and  strike 
together  the  eggs  in  their  hands,  and  the  one  loses 
whose  egg  breaks.  A  tough  shell  is  a  valuable  pos 
session.  The  custom  provokes  a  good  deal  of  larking 
and  merriment.  While  this  is  going  on,  the  worship 
pers  are  making  their  way  into  the  church  through 
the  throng,  ladies  in  the  neat  glory  of  provincial 
dress,  and  high-stepping,  saucy  colored  belles,  yellow 
and  black,  the  blackest  in  the  most  radiant  apparel  of 
violent  pink  and  light  blue,  and  now  and  then  a  soci 
ety  favorite  in  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  The  centre 
pews  of  the  church  are  reserved  for  the  whites,  the 
seats  of  the  side  aisles  for  the  negroes.  When  mass 
begins,  the  church  is  crowded.  The  boys,  with  occa 
sional  excursions  into  the  vestibule  to  dip  the  finger 
G 


82  South  and  West. 

in  the  holy-water,  or  perhaps  say  a  prayer,  are  still 
winning  and  losing  eggs  on  the  green. 

On  the  gallery  at  the  inn  it  is  also  Sunday.  The 
air  is  full  of  odor.  A  strong  south  wind  begins  to 
blow.  I  think  the  south  wind  is  the  wind  of  memory 
and  of  longing.  I  wonder  if  the  gay  spirits  of  the 
last  generation  ever  return  to  the  scenes  of  their  rev 
elry?  Will  they  come  back  to  the  theatre  this  Sun 
day  night,  and  to  the  Grand  Ball  afterwards  ?  The 
admission  to  both  is  only  twenty-five  cents,  including 
gombo  file. 

From  New  Iberia  southward  towards  Vermilion 
Bay  stretches  a  vast  prairie;  if  it  is  not  absolutely 
flat,  if  it  resembles  the  ocean,  it  is  the  ocean  when  its 
long  swells  have  settled  nearly  to  a  calm.  This  prai 
rie  would  be  monotonous  were  it  not  dotted  with 
small  round  ponds,  like  hand-mirrors  for  the  flitting 
birds  and  sailing  clouds,  were  its  expanse  not  spotted 
with  herds  of  cattle,  scattered  or  clustering  like  fish 
ing-boats  on  a  green  sea,  were  it  not  for  a  cabin  here 
and  there,  a  field  of  cane  or  cotton,  a  garden  plot,  and 
were  it  not  for  the  forests  which  break  the  horizon 
line,  and  send  out  dark  capes  into  the  verdant  plains. 
On  a  gray  day,  or  when  storms  and  fogs  roll  in  from 
the  Gulf,  it  might  be  a  gloomy  region,  but  under  the 
sunlight  and  in  the  spring  it  is  full  of  life  and  color; 
it  has  an  air  of  refinement  and  repose  that  is  very 
y/elcome.  Besides  the  uplift  of  the  spirit  that  a  wide 
horizon  is  apt  to  give,  one  is  conscious  here  of  the 
neighborhood  of  the  sea,  and  of  the  possibilities  of  ro 
mantic  adventure  in  a  coast  intersected  by  bayous, 
and  the  presence  of  novel  forms  of  animal  and  vege 
table  life,  and  of  a  people  with  habits  foreign  and 


The  Acadian  Land.  83 

strange.     There  is  also  a  grateful  sense  of  freedom 
and  expansion. 

Soon,  over  the  plain,  is  seen  on  the  horizon,  ten 
miles  from  New  Iberia,  the  dark  foliage  on  the  island 
of  Petite  Anse,  or  Avery's  Island.  This  unexpected 
upheaval  from  the  marsh,  bounded  by  the  narrow, 
circling  Petite  Anse  Bayou,  rises  into  the  sky  one 
hundred  and  eighty  feet,  and  has  the  effect  in  this 
flat  expanse  of  a  veritable  mountain,  comparatively  a 
surprise,  like  Pike's  Peak  seen  from  the  elevation  of 
Denver.  Perhaps  nowhere  else  would  a  hill  of  one 
hundred  and  eighty  feet  make  such  an  impression  on 
the  mind.  Crossing  the  bayou,  where  alligators  sun 
themselves  and  eye  with  affection  the  colored  people 
angling  at  the  bridge,  and  passing  a  long  causeway 
over  the  marsh,  the  firm  land  of  the  island  is  reached. 
This  island,  which  is  a  sort  of  geological  puzzle,  has  a 
very  uneven  surface,  and  is  some  two  and  a  half  miles 
long  by  one  mile  broad.  It  is  a  little  kingdom  in  it 
self,  capable  of  producing  in  its  soil  and  adjacent  wa 
ters  nearly  everything  one  desires  of  the  necessaries 
of  life.  A  portion  of  the  island  is  devoted  to  a  cane 
plantation  and  sugar-works ;  a  part  of  it  is  covered 
with  forests ;  and  on  the  lowlands  and  gentle  slopes, 
besides  thickets  of  palmetto,  are  gigantic  live-oaks, 
moss-draped  trees  monstrous  in  girth,  and  towering 
into  the  sky  with  a  vast  spread  of  branches.  Scarcely 
anywhere  else  will  one  see  a  nobler  growth  of  these 
stately  trees.  In  a  depression  is  the  famous  salt 
mine,  unique  in  quality  and  situation  in  the  world. 
Here  is  grown  and  put  up  the  Tobasco  pepper;  here, 
amid  fields  of  clover  and  flowers,  a  large  apiary  flour 
ishes.  Stones  of  some  value  for  ornament  are  found. 


84:  South  and  West. 

Indeed,  I  should  not  be  surprised  at  anything  turning 
up  there,  for  I  am  told  that  good  kaoline  has  been 
discovered;  and  about  the  residences  of  the  hospitable 
proprietors  roses  bloom  in  abundance,  the  China-tree 
blossoms  sweetly,  and  the  mocking-bird  sings. 

But  better  than  all  these  things  I  think  I  like  the 
view  from  the  broad  cottage  piazzas,  and  I  like  it  best 
when  the  salt  breeze  is  strong  enough  to  sweep  away 
the  coast  mosquitoes — a  most  undesirable  variety.  I 
do  not  know  another  view  of  its  kind  for  extent  and 
color  comparable  to  that  from  this  hill  over  the  wa 
ters  seaward.  The  expanse  of  luxuriant  grass,  brown, 
golden,  reddish,  in  patches,  is  intersected  by  a  net 
work  of  bayous,  which  gleam  like  silver  in  the  sun, 
or  trail  like  dark  fabulous  serpents  under  a  cloudy 
sky.  The  scene  is  limited  only  by  the  power  of  the 
eye  to  meet  the  sky  line.  Vast  and  level,  it  is  con 
stantly  changing,  almost  in  motion  with  life ;  the 
long  grass  and  weeds  run  like  waves  when  the  wind 
blows,  great  shadows  of  clouds  pass  on  its  surface, 
alternating  dark  masses  with  vivid  ones  of  sunlight; 
fishing-boats  and  the  masts  of  schooners  creep  along 
the  threads  of  water ;  when  the  sun  goes  down,  a  red 
globe  of  fire  in  the  Gulf  mists,  all  the  expanse  is  warm 
and  ruddy,  and  the  waters  sparkle  like  jewels ;  and  at 
night,  under  the  great  field  of  stars,  marsh  fires  here 
and  there  give  a  sort  of  lurid  splendor  to  the  scene. 
In  the  winter  it  is  a  temperate  spot,  and  at  all  times 
of  the  year  it  is  blessed  by  an  invigorating  sea- 
breeze. 

Those  who  have  enjoyed  the  charming  social  life  and 
the  unbounded  hospitality  of  the  family  who  inhabit 
this  island  may  envy  them  their  paradisiacal  home, 


The  Acadian  Land.  85 

but  they  would  be  able  to  select  none  others  so 
worthy  to  enjoy  it. 

It  is  said  that  the  Attakapas  Indians  are  shy  of  this 
island,  having  a  legend  that  it  was  the  scene  of  a 
great  catastrophe  to  their  race.  Whether  this  catas 
trophe  has  any  connection  with  the  upheaval  of  the 
salt  mountain  I  do  not  know.  Many  stories  are  cur 
rent  in  this  region  in  regard  to  the  discovery  of  thix 
deposit.  A  little  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  it 
was  unsuspected.  The  presence  of  salt  in  the  water 
of  a  small  spring  led  somebody  to  dig  in  that  place, 
and  at  the  depth  of  sixteen  feet  below  the  surface 
solid  salt  was  struck.  In  stripping  away  the  soil  sev 
eral  relics  of  human  workmanship  came  to  light, 
among  them  stone  implements  and  a  woven  basket, 
exactly  such  as  the  Attakapas  make  now.  This  bas 
ket,  found  at  the  depth  of  sixteen  feet,  lay  upon  the 
salt  rock,  and  was  in  perfect  preservation.  Half  of 
it  can  now  be  seen  in  the  Smithsonian  Institution.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  war  great  quantities  of  salt  were 
taken  from  this  mine  for  the  use  of  the  Confederacy. 
But  this  supply  was  cut  off  by  the  Unionists,  who  at 
first  sent  gunboats  up  the  bayou  within  shelling  dis 
tance,  and  at  length  occupied  it  with  troops. 

The  ascertained  area  of  the  mine  is  several  acres; 
the  depth  of  the  deposit  is  unknown.  The  first  shaft 
was  sunk  a  hundred  feet;  below  this  a  shaft  of  sev 
enty  feet  fails  to  find  any  limit  to  the  salt.  The  ex 
cavation  is  already  large.  Descending,  the  visitor 
enters  vast  cathedral -like  chambers;  the  sides  are 
solid  salt,  sparkling  with  crystals;  the  floor  is  solid 
salt;  the  roof  is  solid  salt,  supported  on  pillars  of  salt 
left  by  the  excavators,  forty  or  perhaps  sixty  feet 


86  South  and  West. 

square.  When  the  interior  is  lighted  by  dynamite  the 
effect  is  superbly  weird  and  grotesque.  The  salt  is 
blasted  by  dynamite,  loaded  into  cars  which  run  on 
rails  to  the  elevator,  hoisted,  and  distributed  into  the 
crushers,  and  from  the  crushers  directly  into  the  bags 
for  shipment.  The  crushers  differ  in  crushing  capac 
ity,  some  producing  fine  and  others  coarse  salt.  No 
bleaching  or  cleansing  process  is  needed;  the  salt  is 
almost  absolutely  pure.  Large  blocks  of  it  are  sent 
to  the  Western  plains  for  "cattle  licks."  The  mine 
is  connected  by  rail  with  the  main  line  at  New  Iberia. 
Across  the  marshes  and  bayous  eight  miles  to  the 
west  from  Petite  Anse  Island  rises  Orange  Island,  fa 
mous  for  its  orange  plantation,  but  called  Jefferson 
Island  since  it  became  the  property  and  home  of 
Joseph  Jefferson.  Not  so  high  as  Petite  Anse,  it  is 
still  conspicuous  with  its  crown  of  dark  forest.  From 
a  high  point  on  Petite  Anse,  through  a  lovely  vista  of 
trees,  with  flowering  cacti  in  the  foreground,  Jeffer 
son's  house  is  a  white  spot  in  the  landscape.  We 
reached  it  by  a  circuitous  drive  of  twelve  miles  over 
the  prairie,  sometimes  in  and  sometimes  out  of  the 
water,  and  continually  diverted  from  our  course  by 
fences.  It  is  a  good  sign  of  the  thrift  of  the  race, 
and  of  its  independence,  that  the  colored  people  have 
taken  up  or  bought  little  tracts  of  thirty  or  forty 
acres,  put  up  cabins,  and  new  fences  round  their  do 
mains  regardless  of  the  travelling  public.  We  zig 
zagged  all  about  the  country  to  get  round  these  little 
enclosures.  At  one  place,  where  the  main  road  was 
bad,  a  thrifty  Acadian  had  set  up  a  toll  of  twenty- 
five  cents  for  the  privilege  of  passing  through  his 
premises.  The  scenery  was  pastoral  and  pleasing. 


The  Acadian  Land.  87 

There  were  frequent  round  ponds,  brilliant  with  lilies 
and  fleurs-de-lis,  and  hundreds  of  cattle  feeding  on  the 
prairie  or  standing  in  the  water,  and  generally  of  a 
dun-color,  made  always  an  agreeable  picture.  The 
monotony  was  broken  by  lines  of  trees,  by  cape-like 
woods  stretching  into  the  plain,  and  the  horizon  line 
was  always  fine.  Great  variety  of  birds  enlivened 
the  landscape,  game  birds  abounding.  There  was  the 
lively  little  nonpareil,  which  seems  to  change  its  col 
or,  and  is  red  and  green  and  blue,  I  believe  of  the 
oriole  family,  the  papabotte,  a  favorite  on  New  Or 
leans  tables  in  the  autumn,  snipe,  killdee,  the  chcrooke 
(snipe?),  the  meadow -lark,  and  quantities  of  teal 
ducks  in  the  ponds.  These  little  ponds  are  called 
"  bull  -holes."  The  traveller  is  told  that  they  are 
started  in  this  watery  soil  by  the  pawing  of  bulls, 
and  gradually  enlarged  as  the  cattle  frequent  them. 
He  remembers  that  he  has  seen  similar  circular  ponds 
in  the  North  not  made  by  bulls. 

Mr.  Jefferson's  residence — a  pretty  rose-vine-covcred 
cottage — is  situated  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  overlook 
ing  a  broad  plain  and  a  vast  stretch  of  bayou  country. 
Along  one  side  of  his  home  enclosure  for  a  mile  runs 
a  superb  hedge  of  Chickasaw  roses.  On  the  slope 
back  of  the  house,  and  almost  embracing  it,  is  a  mag 
nificent  grove  of  live-oaks,  great  gray  stems,  and  the 
branches  hung  with  heavy  masses  of  moss,  which 
swing  in  the  wind  like  the  pendent  boughs  of  the 
willow,  and  with  something  of  its  sentimental  and 
mournful  suggestion.  The  recesses  of  this  forest  are 
cool  and  dark,  but  upon  ascending  the  hill,  suddenly 
bursts  upon  the  view  under  the  trees  a  most  lovely 
lake  of  clear  blue  water.  This  lake,  which  may  be 


88  South  and  West. 

a  mile  long  and  half  a  mile  broad,  is  called  Lake 
Peigneur,  from  its  fanciful  resemblance,  I  believe,  to 
a  wool-comber.  The  shores  are  wooded.  On  the  isl 
and  side  the  bank  is  precipitous  ;  on  the  opposite 
shore  amid  the  trees  is  a  hunting-lodge,  and  I  believe 
there  are  plantations  on  the  north  end,  but  it  is  in  as 
pect  altogether  solitary  and  peaceful.  But  the  island 
did  not  want  life.  The  day  was  brilliant,  with  a  deep 
blue  sky  and  high-sailing  fleecy  clouds,  and  it  seemed 
a  sort  of  animal  holiday :  squirrels  chattered  ;  cardi 
nal-birds  flashed  through  the  green  leaves;  there 
flitted  about  the  red-winged  blackbird,  blue  jays,  red 
headed  woodpeckers,  thrushes,  and  occasionally  a  rain- 
crow  crossed  the  scene  ;  high  overhead  sailed  the 
heavy  buzzards,  describing  great  aerial  circles ;  and 
off  in  the  still  lake  the  ugly  heads  of  alligators  were 
toasting  in  the  sun. 

It  was  very  pleasant  to  sit  on  the  wooded  point,  en 
livened  by  all  this  animal  activity,  looking  off  upon 
the  lake  and  the  great  expanse  of  marsh,  over  which 
came  a  refreshing  breeze.  There  was  great  variety 
of  forest  -  trees.  Besides  the  live-oaks,  in  one  small 
area  I  noticed  the  water-oak,  red-oak,  pin -oak,  the  elm, 
the  cypress,  the  hackberry,  and  the  pecan  tree. 

This  point  is  a  favorite  rendezvous  for  the  buzzards. 
Before  I  reached  it  I  heard  a  tremendous  whirring  in 
the  air,  and,  lo !  there  upon  the  oaks  were  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  buzzards.  Upon  one  dead  tree,  vast, 
gaunt,  and  bleached,  they  had  settled  in  black  masses. 
When  I  came  near  they  rose  and  flew  about  with 
clamor  arid  surprise,  momentarily  obscuring  the  sun 
light.  With  these  unpleasant  birds  consorted  in  un 
clean  fellowship  numerous  long-necked  water-turkeys. 


The  Acadian  Land.  89 

Dore  would  have  liked  to  introduce  into  one  of  his 
melodramatic  pictures  this  helpless  dead  tree,  extend 
ing  its  gray  arms  loaded  with  these  black  scavengers. 
It  needed  the  blue  sky  and  blue  lake  to  prevent  the 
scene  from  being  altogether  uncanny.  I  remember 
still  the  harsh,  croaking  noise  of  the  buzzards  and  the 
water-turkeys  when  they  were  disturbed,  and  the  flap 
ping  of  their  funereal  wings,  and  perhaps  the  alliga 
tors  lying  off  in  the  lake  noted  it,  for  they  grunted 
and  bellowed  a  response.  But  the  birds  sang  merrily, 
the  wind  blew  softly ;  there  was  the  repose  as  of  a 
far  country  undisturbed  by  man,  and  a  silvery  tone 
on  the  water  and  all  the  landscape  that  refined  the 
whole. 

If  the  Acadians  can  anywhere  be  seen  in  the  pros 
perity  of  their  primitive  simplicity,  I  fancy  it  is  in 
the  parish  of  Vermilion,  in  the  vicinity  of  Abbeville 
and  on  the  Bayou  Tigre.  Here,  among  the  intricate 
bayous  that  are  their  highways  and  supply  them  with 
the  poorer  sort  of  fish,  and  the  fair  meadows  on  which 
their  cattle  pasture,  and  where  they  grow  nearly  ev 
erything  their  simple  habits  require,  they  have  for 
over  a  century  enjoyed  a  quiet  existence,  practically 
undisturbed  by  the  agitations  of  modern  life,  ignorant 
of  its  progress.  History  makes  their  departure  from 
the  comparatively  bleak  meadows  of  Grand  Pre  a 
cruel  hardship,  if  a  political  necessity.  But  they 
made  a  very  fortunate  exchange.  Nowhere  else  on 
the  continent  could  they  so  well  have  preserved  their 
primitive  habits,  or  found  climate  and  soil  so  suited 
to  their  humor.  Others  have  exhaustively  set  forth  the 
history  and  idiosyncrasies  of  this  peculiar  people ;  it 
is  in  my  way  only  to  tell  what  I  saw  on  a  spring  day. 


90  South  and  West. 

To  reach  the  heart  of  this  abode  of  contented  and 
perhaps  wise  ignorance  we  took  boats  early  one  morn 
ing  at  Petite  Anse  Island,  while  the  dew  was  still 
heavy  and  the  birds  were  at  matins,  and  rowed  down 
the  Petite  Anse  Bayou.  A  stranger  would  surely  be 
lost  in  these  winding,  branching,  interlacing  streams. 
Evangcline  and  her  lover, might  have  passed  each 
other  unknown  within  hail  across  these  marshes.  The 
party  of  a  dozen  people  occupied  two  row-boats. 
Among  them  were  gentlemen  who  knew  the  route, 
but  the  reserve  of  wisdom  as  to  what  bayous  and  cut 
offs  were  navigable  was  an  ancient  ex-slave,  now  a 
voter,  who  responded  to  the  name  of  "  Honorable  " — 
a  weather-beaten  and  weather- wise  darky,  a  redoubt 
able  fisherman,  whose  memory  extended  away  beyond 
the  Avar,  and  played  familiarly  about  the  person  of 
Lafayette,  with  whom  he  had  been  on  agreeable  terms 
in  Charleston,  and  who  dated  his  narratives,  to  our 
relief,  not  from  the  war,  but  from  the  year  of  some 
great  sickness  on  the  coast.  From  the  Petite  Anse 
we  entered  the  Carlin  Bayou,  and  wound  through  it 
is  needless  to  say  what  others  in  our  tortuous  course. 
In  the  fresh  morning,  with  the  salt  air,  it  was  a  voy 
age  of  delight.  Mullet  were  jumping  in  the  glassy 
stream,  perhaps  disturbed  by  the  gar-fish,  and  alliga 
tors  lazily  slid  from  the  reedy  banks  into  the  water  at 
our  approach.  All  the  marsh  was  gay  with  flowers, 
vast  patches  of  the  blue  fleur-de-lis  intermingled  with 
the  exquisite  white  spider-lily,  nodding  in  clusters  on 
long  stalks ;  an  amaryllis  (pancratium),  its  pure  half- 
disk  fringed  with  delicate  white  filaments.  The  air 
was  vocal  with  the  notes  of  birds,  the  nonpareil  and  the 
meadow-lark,  and  most  conspicuous  of  all  the  hand- 


The  Acadian  Land.  91 

some  boat  -  tail  grackle,  a  blackbird,  which  alighted 
on  the  slender  dead  reeds  that  swayed  with  his 
weight  as  he  poured  forth  his  song.  Sometimes  the 
bayou  narrowed  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  row  with 
the  oars,  and  poling  was  resorted  to,  and  the  current 
was  swift  and  strong.  At  such  passes  we  saw  only 
the  banks  with  nodding  flowers,  and  the  reeds,  with 
the  blackbirds  singing,  against  the  sky.  Again  we 
emerged  into  placid  reaches  overhung  by  gigantic 
live-oaks  and  fringed  with  cypress.  It  was  enchant 
ing.  But  the  way  was  not  quite  solitary.  Numerous 
fishing  parties  were  encountered,  boats  on  their  way 
to  the  bay,  and  now  and  then  a  party  of  stalwart  men 
drawing  a  net  in  the  bayou,  their  clothes  being  de 
posited  on  the  banks.  Occasionally  a  large  schooner 
was  seen,  tied  to  the  bank  or  slowly  working  its  way, 
and  on  one  a  w^hole  family  was  domesticated.  There 
is  a  good  deal  of  queer  life  hidden  in  these  bayous. 

After  passing  through  a  narrow*  artificial  canal,  we 
came  into  the  Bayou  Tigre,  and  landed  for  breakfast 
on  a  greensward,  with  meadow-land  and  signs  of  hab 
itations  in  the  distance,  under  spreading  live  -  oaks. 
Under  one  of  the  most  attractive  of  these  trees,  close 
to  the  stream,  we  did  not  spread  our  table-cloth  and 
shawls,  because  a  large  moccason  snake  was  seen  to 
glide  under  the  roots,  and  we  did  not  .know  but  that 
his  modesty  was  assumed,  and  he  might  join  the 
breakfast  party.  It  is  said  that  these  snakes  never 
attack  any  one  who  has  kept  all  the  ten  command 
ments  from  his  youth  up.  Cardinal -birds  made  the 
wood  gay  for  us  while  we  breakfasted,  and  we  might 
have  added  plenty  of  partridges  to  our  menu  if  we 
had  been  armed. 


92  South  and  West. 

Resuming  our  voyage,  we  presently  entered  the  in 
habited  part  of  the  bayou,  among  cultivated  fields, 
and  made  our  first  call  on  the  Thibodeaux.  They  had 
been  expecting  us,  and  Andonia  came  down  to  the 
landing  to  welcome  us,  and  with  a  formal,  pretty 
courtesy  led  the  way  to  the  house.  Does  the  reader 
happen  to  remember,  say  in  New  England,  say  fifty 
years  ago,  the  sweetest  maiden  lady  in  the  village, 
prim,  staid,  full  of  kindness,  the  proportions  of  the 
figure  never  quite  developed,  with  a  row  of  small 
corkscrew  curls  about  her  serene  forehead,  and  all  the 
juices  of  life  that  might  have  overflowed  into  the  life 
of  others  somehow  withered  into  the  sweetness  of  her 
wistful  face  ?  Yes;  a  little  timid  and  appealing,  and 
yet  trustful,  and  in  a  scant,  quaint  gown  ?  Well,  An 
donia  was  never  married,  and  she  had  such  curls,  and 
a  high-waisted  gown,  and  a  kerchief  folded  across  her 
breast;  and  when  she  spoke,  it  was  in  the  language  of 
France  as  it  is  rendered  in  Acadia. 

The  house,  like  all  in  this  region,  stands  upon  blocks 
of  wood,  is  in  appearance  a  frame  house,  but  the  walls 
between  timbers  are  of  concrete  mixed  with  moss, 
and  the  same  inside  as  out.  It  had  no  glass  in  the 
windows,  which  were  closed  with  solid  shutters.  Upon 
the  rough  walls  were  hung  sacred  pictures  and  other 
crudely  colored  prints.  The  furniture  was  rude  and 
apparently  home-made,  and  the  whole  interior  was  as 
painfully  neat  as  a  Dutch  parlor.  Even  the  beams 
overhead  and  ceiling  had  been  scrubbed.  Andonia 
showed  us  with  a  blush  of  pride  her  neat  little  sleep 
ing-room,  with  its  souvenirs  of  affection,  and  perhaps 
some  of  the  dried  flowers  of  a  possible  romance,  and 
the  ladies  admired  the  finely  woven  white  counterpane 


The  Acadian  Land.  93 

on  the  bed.  Andonia's  married  sister  was  a  large, 
handsome  woman,  smiling  and  prosperous.  There 
were  children  and,  I  think,  a  baby  about,  besides  Mr. 
Thibodeaux.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  kindly  man 
ner  of  these  people.  Andonia  showed  us  how  they 
card,  weave,  and  spin  the  cotton  out  of  which  their 
blankets  and  the  jean  for  their  clothing  are  made. 
They  use  the  old-fashioned  hand-cards,  spin  on  a  little 
wheel  with  a  foot  -  treadle,  have  the  most  primitive 
warping-bars,  and  weave  most  laboriously  on  a  rude 
loom.  But  the  cloth  they  make  will  wear  forever,  and 
the  colors  they  use  are  all  fast.  It  is  a  great  pleasure, 
we  might  almost  say  shock,  to  encounter  such  honest 
work  in  these  times.  The  Acadians  grow  a  yellow  or 
nankeen  sort  of  cotton  which,  without  requiring  any 
dye,  is  woven  into  a  handsome  yellow  stuff.  When 
we  departed  Andonia  slipped  into  the  door-yard,  and 
returned  with  a  rose  for  each  of  us.  I  fancied  she 
was  loath  to  have  us  go,  and  that  the  visit  was  an 
event  in  the  monotony  of  her  single  life. 

Embarking  again  on  the  placid  stream,  we  moved 
along  through  a  land  of  peace.  The  houses  of  the 
Acadians  are  scattered  along  the  bayou  at  considera 
ble  distances  apart.  The  voyager  seems  to  be  in  an 
unoccupied  country,  when  suddenly  the  turn  of  the 
stream  shows  him  a  farm-house,  with  its  little  landing- 
wharf,  boats,  and  perhaps  a  schooner  moored  at  the 
bank,  and  behind  it  cultivated  fields  and  a  fringe  of 
trees.  In  the  blossoming  time  of  the  year,  when  the 
birds  are  most  active,  these  scenes  are  idyllic.  At  a 
bend  in  the  bayou,  where  a  tree  sent  its  horizontal 
trunk  half  across  it,  we  made  our  next  call,  at  the 
house  of  Mr,  Vallet,  a  large  frame  house,  and  evi- 


94:  South  and  West. 

dently  the  abode  of  a  man  of  means.  The  house  was 
ceiled  outside  and  inside  with  native  woods.  As  usual 
in  this  region,  the  premises  were  not  as  orderly  as 
those  about  some  Northern  farm-houses,  but  the  inte 
rior  of  the  house  was  spotlessly  clean,  and  in  its  polish 
and  barrenness  of  ornament  and  of  appliances  of  com 
fort  suggested  a  Brittany  home,  while  its  openness 
and  the  broad  veranda  spoke  of  a  genial  climate.  Our 
call  here  was  brief,  for  a  sick  man,  very  ill,  they  said, 
lay  in  the  front  room — a  stranger  who  had  been  over 
taken  with  fever,  and  was  being  cared  for  by  these 
kind-hearted  people. 

Other  calls  were  made — this  visiting  by  boat  recalls 
Venice — but  the  end  of  our  voyage  was  the  plantation 
of  Simonette  Le  Blanc,  a  sturdy  old  man,  a  sort  of  pa 
triarch  in  this  region,  the  centre  of  a  very  large  fami 
ly  of  sons,  daughters,  and  grandchildren.  The  resi 
dence,  a  rambling  story-and-a-half  house,  grown  by 
accretions  as  more  room  was  needed,  calls  for  no  com 
ment.  It  was  all  very  plain,  and  contained  no  books, 
nor  any  adornments  except  some  family  photographs, 
the  poor  work  of  a  travelling  artist.  But  in  front,  on 
the  bayou,  Mr.  Le  Blanc  had  erected  a  grand  ball 
room,  which  gave  an  air  of  distinction  to  the  place. 
This  hall,  which  had  benches  along  the  wall,  and  at 
one  end  a  high  dais  for  the  fiddlers,  and  a  little  counter 
where  the  gombo  file  (the  common  refreshment)  is 
served,  had  an  air  of  gayety  by  reason  of  engravings 
cut  from  the  illustrated  papers,  and  was  shown  with 
some  pride.  Here  neighborhood  dances  take  place 
once  in  two  weeks,  and  a  grand  ball  was  to  come  off 
on  Easter-Sunday  night,  to  which  we  were  urgently 
invited  to  come. 


The  Acadian  Land.  95 

Simonette  Le  Blanc,  with  several  of  his  sons,  had 
returned  at  midnight  from  an  expedition  to  Vermil 
ion  Bay,  where  they  had  been  camping  for  a  couple 
of  weeks,  fishing  and  taking  oysters.  Working  the 
schooner  through  the  bayou  at  night  had  been  fatigu 
ing,  and  then  there  was  supper,  and  all  the  news  of 
the  fortnight  to  be  talked  over,  so  that  it  was  four 
o'clock  before  the  house  was  at  rest,  but  neither  the 
hale  old  man  nor  his  stalwart  sons  seemed  the  worse 
for  the  adventure.  Such  trips  are  not  uncommon,  for 
these  people  seem  to  have  leisure  for  enjoyment,  and 
vary  the  toil  of  the  plantation  wdth  the  pleasures  of 
fishing  and  lazy  navigation.  But  to  the  women  and 
the  home-stayers  this  was  evidently  an  event.  The 
men  had  been  to  the  outer  world,  and  brought  back 
with  them  the  gossip  of  the  bayous  and  the  simple 
incidents  of  the  camping  life  on  the  coast.  "There 
was  a  great  deal  to  talk  over  that  had  happened  in  a 
fortnight,"  said  Simonette — he  and  one  of  his  sons 
spoke  English.  I  do  not  imagine  that  the  talk  was 
about  politics,  or  any  of  the  events  that  seem  impor 
tant  in  other  portions  of  the  United  States,  only  the 
faintest  echoes  of  which  ever  reach  this  secluded  place. 
This  is  a  purely  domestic  and  patriarchal  community, 
where  there  are  no  books  to  bring  in  agitating  doubts, 
and  few  newspapers  to  disquiet  the  nerves.  The  only 
matter  of  politics  broached  was  in  regard  to  an  appro 
priation  by  Congress  to  improve  a  cut-off  between 
two  bayous.  So  far  as  I  could  learn,  the  most  intelli 
gent  of  these  people  had  no  other  interest  in  or  con 
cern  about  the  Government.  There  is  a  neighborhood 
school  where  English  is  taught,  but  no  church  nearer 

O  O          * 

than  Abbeville,  six  miles  away.     I  should  not  describe 


96  South  and  West. 

the  population  as  fanatically  religious,  nor  a  church- 
going  one  except  on  special  days.  But  by  all  accounts 
it  is  moral,  orderly,  sociable,  fond  of  dancing,  thrifty, 
and  conservative. 

The  Acadians  are  fond  of  their  homes.  It  is  not 
the  fashion  for  the  young  people  to  go  away  to  better 
their  condition.  Few  young  men  have  ever  been  as 
far  from  home  as  New  Orleans ;  they  marry  young, 
and  settle  down  near  the  homestead.  Mr.  Le  Blanc 
has  a  colony  of  his  descendants  about  him,  within 
hail  from  his  door.  It  must  be  large,  and  his  race 
must  be  prolific,  judging  by  the  number  of  small  chil 
dren  who  gathered  at  the  homestead  to  have  a  sly 
peep  at  the  strangers.  They  took  small  interest  in 
the  war,  and  it  had  few  attractions  for  them.  The 
conscription  carried  away  many  of  their  young  men, 
but  I  am  told  they  did  not  make  very  good  soldiers, 
not  because  they  were  not  stalwart  and  brave,  but 
because  they  were  so  intolerably  homesick  that  they 
deserted  whenever  they  had  a  chance.  The  men 
whom  we  saw  were  most  of  them  fine  athletic  fellows, 
with  honest,  dark,  sun -browned  faces;  some  of  the 
children  were  very  pretty,  but  the  women  usually 
showed  the  effects  of  isolation  and  toil,  and  had  the 
common  plainness  of  French  peasants.  They  are  a 
self  -  supporting  community,  raise  their  own  cotton, 
corn,  and  sugar,  and  for  the  most  part  manufacture 
their  own  clothes  and  articles  of  household  use. 
Some  of  the  cotton  jeans,  striped  with  blue,  indigo- 
dyed,  made  into  garments  for  men  and  women,  and 
the  blankets,  plain  yellow  (from  the  native  nankeen 
cotton),  curiously  clouded,  are  very  pretty  and  serv 
iceable.  Further  than  that  their  habits  of  living  are 


The  Acadian  Land.  97 

simple,  and  their  ways  primitive,  I  saw  few  eccen 
tricities.  The  peculiarity  of  this  community  is  in  its 
freedom  from  all  the  hurry  and  worry  and  informa 
tion  of  our  modern  life.  I  have  read  that  the  gallants 
train  their  little  horses  to  prance  and  curvet  and  rear 
and  fidget  about,  and  that  these  are  called  "  courtin' 
horses,"  and  are  used  wrhen  a  young  man  goes  court 
ing,  to  impress  his  mistress  with  his  manly  horseman 
ship.  I  have  seen  these  horses  perform  under  the 
saddle,  but  I  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  see  any  court 
ing  going  on. 

In  their  given  as  well  as  their  family  names  these 
people  are  classical  and  peculiar.  I  heard,  of  men, 
the  names  L'Odias,  Peigneur,  Niolas,  Elias,  Homere, 
Lemaire,  and  of  women,  Emilite,  Segoura,  Antoinette, 
Clarise,  Elia. 

"We  were  very  hospitably  entertained  by  the  Le 
Blancs.  On  our  arrival  tiny  cups  of  black  coffee  were 
handed  round,  and  later  a  drink  of  syrup  and  water, 
which  some  of  the  party  sipped  with  a  sickly  smile 
of  enjoyment.  Before  dinner  we  walked  up  to  the 
bridge  over  the  bayou  on  the  road  leading  to  Abbe 
ville,  where  there  is  a  little  cluster  of  houses,  a  small 
country  store,  and  a  closed  drug-shop — the  owner  of 
which  had  put  up  his  shutters  and  gone  to  a  more 
unhealthy  region.  Here  is  a  fine  grove  of  oaks,  and 
from  the  bridge  we  had  in  view  a  grand  sweep  of 
prairie,  with  trees,  single  and  in  masses,  which  made 
with  the  winding  silvery  stream  a  very  pleasing  pict 
ure.  We  sat  down  to  a  dinner — the  women  waiting 
on  the  table — of  gombo  file,  fried  oysters,  eggs,  sweet- 
potatoes  (the  delicious  saccharine,  sticky  sort),  with 
syrup  out  of  a  bottle  served  in  little  saucers,  and  af- 
7 


98  South  'and  West. 

terwards  black  coffee.  We  were  sincerely  welcome 
to  whatever  the  house  contained,  and  when  we  de 
parted  the  whole  family,  and  indeed  all  the  neighbor 
hood,  accompanied  us  to  our  boats,  and  we  went  away 
clown  the  stream  with  a  chorus  of  adieus  and  good 
wishes. 

We  were  watching  for  a  hail  from  the  Thibodeaux. 
The  doors  and  shutters  were  closed,  and  the  mansion 
seemed  blank  and  forgetful.  But  as  we  came  oppo 
site  the  landing,  there  stood  Andonia,  faithful,  waving 
her  handkerchief.  Ah  me! 

We  went  home  gayly  and  more  swiftly,  current 
and  tide  with  us,  though  a  little  pensive,  perhaps,  with 
too  much  pleasure  and  the  sunset  effects  on  the  wide 
marshes  through  which  we  voyaged.  Cattle  wander 
at  will  over  these  marshes,  and  are  often  stalled  and 
lost.  We  saw  some  pitiful  sights.  The  cattle  vent 
uring  too  near  the  boggy  edge  to  drink  become  in 
extricably  involved.  We  passed  an  ox  sunken  to 
his  back,  and  dead;  a  cow  frantically  struggling  in 
the  mire,  almost  exhausted,  and  a  cow  and  calf,  the 
mother  dead,  the  calf  moaning  beside  her.  On  a  cat 
tle  lookout  near  by  sat  three  black  buzzards  survey 
ing  the  prospect  with  hungry  eyes. 

When  we  landed  and  climbed  the  hill,  and  from 
the  rose  -  embowered  veranda  looked  back  over  the 
strange  land  we  had  sailed  through,  away  to  Bayou 
Tigre,  where  the  red  sun  was  setting,  we  felt  that  we 
had  been  in  a  country  that  is  not  of  this  world. 


VI. 
THE   SOUTH  REVISITED. 

IN  1887. 

Ix  speaking  again  of  the  South  in  HARPER'S 
MONTHLY,  after  an  interval  of  about  two  years,  and 
as  before  at  the  request  of  the  editor,  I  said,  I  shrink 
a  good  deal  from  the  appearance  of  forwardness 
which  a  second  paper  may  seem  to  give  to  observa 
tions  which  have  the  single  purpose  of  contributing 
my  mite  towards  making  the  present  spirit  of  the 
Southern  people,  their  progress  in  industries  and  in 
education,  their  aspirations,  better  known.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  have  no  desire  to  escape  the  imputation 
of  a  warm  interest  in  the  South,  and  of  a  belief  that 
its  development  and  prosperity  are  essential  to  the 
greatness  and  glory  of  the  nation.  Indeed,  no  one 
can  go  through  the  South,  with  his  eyes  open,  without 
having  his  patriotic  fervor  quickened  and  broadened, 
and  without  increased  pride  in  the  republic. 

We  are  one  people.  Different  traditions,  different 
education  or  the  lack  of  it,  the  demoralizing  curse  of 
slavery,  different  prejudices,  made  us  look  at  life  from 
irreconcilable  points  of  view;  but  the  prominent  com 
mon  feature,  after  all,  is  our  Americanism.  In  any 
assembly  of  gentlemen  from  the  two  sections  the  re 
semblances  are  greater  than  the  differences.  A  score 
of  times  I  have  heard  it  said,  "We  look  alike,  talk 


100  South  and  West, 

alike,  feel  alike  ;  how  strange  it  is  we  should  have 
fought!"  Personal  contact  always  tends  to  remove 
prejudices,  and  to  bring  into  prominence  the  national 
feeling,  the  race  feeling,  the  human  nature  common 
to  all  of  us. 

I  wish  to  give  as  succinctly  as  I  can  the  general 
impressions  of  a  recent  six  weeks'  tour,  made  by  a 
company  of  artists  and  writers,  which  became  known 
as  the  "Harper  party,"  through  a  considerable  por 
tion  of  the  South,  including  the  cities  of  Lynchburg, 
Richmond,  Danville,  Atlanta,  Augusta  (with  a  brief 
call  at  Charleston  and  Columbia,  for  it  was  not  in 
tended  to  take  in  the  eastern  seaboard  on  this  trip), 
Knoxville,  Chattanooga,  South  Pittsburg,  Nashville, 
Birmingham,  Montgomery,  Peusacola,  Mobile,  New 
Orleans,  Baton  Rouge,  Vicksburg,  Memphis,  Louis 
ville.  Points  of  great  interest  were  necessarily  omit 
ted  in  a  tour  which  could  only  include  representa 
tives  of  the  industrial  and  educational  development 
of  the  New  South.  Naturally  we  were  thrown  more 
with  business  men  and  with  educators  than  with  oth 
ers  ;  that  is,  with  those  who  are  actually  making  the 
New  South ;  but  we  saw  something  of  social  life, 
something  of  the  homes  and  mode  of  living  of  every 
class,  and  we  had  abundant  opportunities  of  conversa 
tion  with  whites  and  blacks  of  every  social  grade  and 
political  affinity.  The  Southern  people  were  anxious 
to  show  us  what  they  were  doing,  and  they  expressed 
their  sentiments  with  entire  frankness  ;  if  we  were 
misled,  it  is.  our  own  fault.  It  must  be  noted,  how 
ever,  in  estimating  the  value  of  our  observations,  that 
they  were  mainly  made  in  cities  and  large  villages, 
and  little  in  the  country  districts. 


The  South  Revisited.  101 

Inquiries  in  the  South  as  to  the  feeling  of  the 
North  show  that  there  is  still  left  some  misapprehen 
sion  of  the  spirit  in  which  the  North  sent  out  its 
armies,  though  it  is  beginning  to  be  widely  under 
stood  that  the  North  was  not  animated  by  hatred  of 
the  South,  but  by  intense  love  of  the  Union.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  have  no  doubt  there  still  lingers  in  the 
North  a  little  misapprehension  of  the  present  feeling 
of  the  Southern  people  about  the  Union.  It  arises 
from  a  confusion  of  two  facts  which  it  is  best  to  speak 
of  plainly.  Everybody  knows  that  the  South  is 
heartily  glad  that  slavery  is  gone,  and  that  a  new  era 
of  freedom  has  set  in.  Everybody  who  knows  the 
South  at  all  is  aware  that  any  idea  of  any  renewal  of 
the  strife,  now  or  at  any  time,  is  nowhere  entertained, 
even  as  a  speculation,  and  that  to  the  women  espe 
cially,  who  are  said  to  be  first  in  war,  last  in  peace, 
and  first  in  the  hearts  of  their  countrymen,  the  idea 
of  war  is  a  subject  of  utter  loathing.  The  two  facts 
to  which  I  refer  are  the  loyalty  of  the  Southern  whites 
to  the  Union,  and  their  determination  to  rule  in  do 
mestic  affairs.  Naturally  there  are  here  and  there 
soreness  and  some  bitterness  over  personal  loss  and 
ruin,  life-long  grief,  maybe,  over  lost  illusions — the 
observer  who  remembers  what  human  nature  is  won 
ders  that  so  little  of  this  is  left — but  the  great  fact  is 
that  the  South  is  politically  loyal  to  the  Union  of  the 
States,  that  the  sentiment  for  its  symbol  is  growing 
into  a  deep  reality  which  would  flame  out  in  passion 
under  any  foreign  insult,  and  that  nationality,  pride 
in  the  republic,  is  everywhere  strong  and  prominent. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  this,  but  it  needs  to  be 
emphasized  when  the  other  fact  is  dwelt  on,  namely, 


102  South  and  West. 

the  denial  of  free  suffrage  to  the  colored  man.  These 
two  things  are  confused,  and  this  confusion  is  the 
source  of  much  political  misunderstanding.  Often 
when  a  Southern  election  "  outrage  "  is  telegraphed, 
when  intimidation  or  fraud  is  revealed,  it  is  said  in 
print,  "So  that  is  Southern  loyalty!"  In  short,  the 
political  treatment  of  the  negro  is  taken  to  be  a  sign 
of  surviving  war  feeling,  if  not  of  a  renewed  purpose 
of  rebellion.  In  this  year  of  grace  1887  the  two 
things  have  no  relation  to  each  other.  It  would  be 

v3 

as  true  to  say  that  election  frauds  and  violence  to  in 
dividuals  and  on  the  ballot-box  in  Cincinnati  are  signs 
of  hatred  of  the  Union  and  of  Union  men,  as  that  a 
suppressed  negro  vote  at  the  South,  by  adroit  man 
agement  or  otherwise,  is  indication  of  remaining  hos 
tility  to  the  Union.  In  the  South  it  is  sometimes  due 
to  the  same  depraved  party  spirit  that  causes  frauds 
in  the  North — the  determination  of  a  party  to  get  or 
keep  the  upperhand  at  all  hazards ;  but  it  is,  in  its 
origin  and  generally,  simply  the  result  of  the  resolu 
tion  of  the  majority  of  the  brains  and  property  of 
the  South  to  govern  the  cities  and  the  States,  and  in 
the  Southern  mind  this  is  perfectly  consistent  with 
entire  allegiance  to  the  Government.  I  could  name 

O 

men  who  were  abettors  of  what  is  called  the  "  shot 
gun  policy"  whose  national  patriotism  is  beyond 
question,  and  who  are  warm  promoters  of  negro  edu 
cation  and  the  improvement  of  the  condition  of  the 
colored  people. 

We  might  as  well  go  to  the  bottom  of  this  state  of 
things,  and  look  it  squarely  in  the  face.  Under  re 
construction,  sometimes  owing  to  a  tardy  acceptance 
of  the  new  conditions  by  the  ruling  class,  the  State 


The  South  Revisited.  103 

governments  and  the  municipalities  fell  under  the 
control  of  ignorant  colored  people,  guided  by  un 
scrupulous  white  adventurers.  States  and  cities  were 
prostrate  under  the  heel  of  ignorance  and  fraud, 
crushed  with  taxes,  and  no  improvements  to  show  for 
them.  It  was  ruin  on  the  way  to  universal  bankruptcy. 
The  regaining  of  power  by  the  intelligent  and  the 
property  owners  was  a  question  of  civilization.  The 
situation  was  intolerable.  There  is  no  Northern  com 
munity  that  would  have  submitted  to  it ;  if  it  could 
not  have  been  changed  by  legal  process,  it  would  have 
been  upset  by  revolution,  as  it  was  at  the  South.  Rec 
ognizing  as  we  must  the  existence  of  race  prejudice 
and  pride,  it  was  nevertheless  a  struggle  for  existence. 
The  methods  resorted  to  were  often  violent,  and  be 
ing  sweeping,  carried  injustice.  To  be  a  Republican, 
in  the  eyes  of  those  smarting  under  carpet-bag  gov 
ernment  and  the  rule  of  the  ignorant  lately  enfran 
chised,  was  to  be  identified  with  the  detested  carpet 
bag  government  and  with  negro  rule.  The  Southern. 
Unionist  and  the  Northern  emigrant,  who  justly  re 
garded  the  name  Republican  as  the  proudest  they 
could  bear,  identified  as  it  was  with  the  preservation 
of  the  Union  and  the  national  credit,  could  not  show 
their  Republican  principles  at  the  polls  without  per 
sonal  danger  in  the  country  and  social  ostracism  in 
the  cities.  Social  ostracism  on  account  of  politics 
even  outran  social  ostracism  on  account  of  participa 
tion  in  the  education  of  the  negroes.  The  very  men 
who  would  say, "  I  respect  a  man  who  fought  for  the 
Union  more  than  a  Northern  Copperhead,  and  if  I 
had  lived  North,  no  doubt  I  should  have  gone  with 
my  section,"  would  at  the  same  time  say,  or  think, 


104  South  and  West. 

"But  you  cannot  be  a  Republican  down  here  now, 
for  to  be  that  is  to  identify  yourself  with  the  party 
here  that  is  hostile  to  everything  in  life  that  is  dear 
to  us."  This  feeling  Avas  intensified  by  the  memories 
of  the  war,  but  it  was  in  a  measure  distinct  from  the 
war  feeling,  and  it  lived  on  when  the  latter  grew 
weak,  and  it  still  survives  in  communities  perfectly 
loyal  to  the  Union,  glad  that  slavery  is  ended,  and 
sincerely  desirous  of  the  establishment  and  improve 
ment  of  public  education  for  colored  and  white  alike. 
Any  tampering  with  the  freedom  of  the  ballot-box 
in  a  republic,  no  matter  what  the  provocation,  is  dan 
gerous  ;  the  methods  used  to  regain  white  ascendancy 
were  speedily  adopted  for  purely  party  purposes  and 
factional  purposes ;  the  chicanery,  even  the  violence, 
employed  to  render  powerless  the  negro  and  "  carpet 
bag"  vote  were  freely  used  by  partisans  in  local  elec 
tions  against  each  other,  and  in  time  became  means  of 
preserving  party  and  ring  ascendancy.  Thoughtful 
men  South  as  well  as  North  recognize  the  vital  dan 
ger  to  popular  government  if  voting  and  the  ballot- 
box  are  not  sacredly  protected.  In  a  recent  election 
in  Texas,  in  a  district  where,  I  am  told,  the  majority 
of  the  inhabitants  are  white,  and  the  majority  of  the 
whites  are  Republicans,  and  the  majority  of  the  col 
ored  voters  voted  the  Republican  ticket,  and  greatly 
the  larger  proportion  of  the  wealth  and  business  of 
the  district  are  in  Republican  hands,  there  was  an 
election  row ;  ballot-boxes  were  destroyed  in  several 
precincts,  persons  killed  on  both  sides,  and  leading 
Republicans  driven  out  of  the  State.  This  is  barba 
rism.  If  the  case  is  substantiated  as  stated,  that  in  the 
district  it  was  not  a  question  of  race  ascendancy,  but 


The  South  Revisited.  105 

of  party  ascendancy,  no  fair-minded  man  in  the  South 
can  do  otherwise  than  condemn  it,  for  under  such  con 
ditions  not  only  is  a  republican  form  of  government 
impossible,  but  development  and  prosperity  are  im 
possible. 

For  this  reason,  and  because  separation  of  voters 
on  class  lines  is  always  a  peril,  it  is  my  decided  im 
pression  that  throughout  the  South,  though  not  by 
everybody,  a  breaking  up  of  the  solidarity  of  the 
South  would  be  welcome ;  that  is  to  say,  a  breaking 
up  of  both  the  negro  and  the  white  vote,  and  the  re 
forming  upon  lines  of  national  and  economic  policy, 
as  in  the  old  days  of  Whig  and  Democrat,  and  liberty 
of  free  action  in  all  local  affairs,  without  regard  to 
color  or  previous  party  relations.  There  are  politi 
cians  who  would  preserve  a  solid  South,  or  as  a  coun 
terpart  a  solid  North,  for  party  purposes.  But  the 
sense  of  the  country,  the  perception  of  business  men 
North  and  South,  is  that  this  condition  of  politics  in 
terferes  wTith  the  free  play  of  industrial  development, 
with  emigration,  investment  of  capital,  and  with  that 
untrammelled  agitation  and  movement  in  society 
which  are  the  life  of  prosperous  States. 

Let  us  come  a  little  closer  to  the  subject,  dealing  al 
together  with  facts,  and  not  with  opinions.  The  Re 
publicans  of  the  North  protest  against  the  injustice 
of  an  increased  power  in  the  Lower  House  and  in  the 
Electoral  College  based  upon  a  vote  which  is  not  rep 
resented.  It  is  a  valid  protest  in  law ;  there  is  no  an 
swer  to  it.  What  is  the  reply  to  it  ?  The  substance 
of  hundreds  of  replies  to  it  is  that "  we  dare  not  let 
go  so  long  as  the  negroes  all  vote  together,  regardless 
of  local  considerations  or  any  economic  problems  what- 


106  South  and  West. 

ever ;  we  are  in  danger  of  a  return  to  a  rule  of  igno 
rance  that  was  intolerable,  and  as  long  as  you  wave 
the  bloody  shirt  at  the  North,  which  means  to  us  a 
return  to  that  rule,  the  South  will  be  solid."  The  re 
mark  made  by  one  man  of  political  prominence  was 
perhaps  typical :  "  The  waving  of  the  bloody  shirt 
suits  me  exactly  as  a  political  game  ;  we  should  have 
hard  work  to  keep  our  State  Democratic  if  you  did 
not  wave  it."  So  the  case  stands.  The  Republican 
party  will  always  insist  on  freedom,  not  only  of  politi 
cal  opinion,  but  of  action,  in  every  part  of  the  Union  ; 
and  the  South  will  keep  "  solid  "  so  long  as  it  fears,  or 
so  long  as  politicians  can  persuade  it  to  fear,  the  re 
turn  of  the  late  disastrous  domination.  And  recog 
nizing  this  fact,  and  speaking  in  the  interest  of  no 
party,  but  only  in  that  of  better  understanding  and  of 
the  prosperity  of  the  whole  country,  I  cannot  doubt 
that  the  way  out  of  most  of  our  complications  is  in 
letting  the  past  drop  absolutely,  and  addressing  our 
selves  with  sympathy  and  good-will  all  around  to  the 
great  economical  problems  and  national  issues.  And 
I  believe  that  in  this  way  also  lies  the  speediest  and 
most  permanent  good  to  the  colored  as  well  as  the 
white  population  of  the  South. 

There  has  been  a  great  change  in  the  aspect  of  the 
South  and  in  its  sentiment  within  two  years  ;  or  per 
haps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  the  change 
maturing  for  fifteen  years  is  more  apparent  in  a  period 
of  comparative  rest  from  race  or  sectional  agitation. 
The  educational  development  is  not  more  marvellous 
than  the  industrial,  and  both  are  unparalleled  in  his 
tory.  Let  us  begin  by  an  illustration. 

I  stood  one  day  before  an  assembly  of  four  hundred 


The  South  Revisited.  107 

pupils  of  a  colored  college — called  a  college,  but  with 
a  necessary  preparatory  department — children  and 
well-grown  young  women  and  men.  The  buildings 
are  fine,  spacious,  not  inferior  to  the  best  modern  edu 
cational  buildings  either  in  architectural  appearance 
or  in  interior  furnishing,  with  scientific  apparatus,  a 
library,  the  appliances  approved  by  recent  experience 
in  teaching,  with  admirable  methods  and  discipline, 
and  an  accomplished  corps  of  instructors.  The  schol 
ars  were  neat,  orderly,  intelligent  in  appearance.  As 
I  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  looking  at  their  bright 
expectant  faces  the  profound  significance  of  the  spec 
tacle  and  the  situation  came  over  me,  and  I  said  :  "  I 
wonder  if  you  know  what  you  are  doing,  if  you  real 
ize  what  this  means.  Here  you  are  in  a  school  the 
equal  of  any  of  its  grade  in  the  land,  writh  better 
methods  of  instruction  than  prevailed  anywhere  when 
I  was  a  boy,  with  the  gates  of  all  knowledge  opened 
as  freely  to  you  as  to  any  youth  in  the  land — here,  in 
this  State,  where  only  about  twenty  years  ago  it  was 
a  misdemeanor,  punishable  with  fine  and  imprison 
ment,  to  teach  a  colored  person  to  read  and  write. 
And  I  am  brought  here  to  see  this  fine  school,  as  one 
of  the  best  things  he  can  show  me  in  the  city,  by  a 
Confederate  colonel.  Not  in  all  history  is  there  any 
instance  of  a  change  like  this  in  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  :  no,  not  in  one  nor  in  two  hundred  years.  It 
seems  incredible." 

This  is  one  of  the  schools  instituted  and  sustained 
by  Northern  friends  of  the  South;  but  while  it  exhib 
its  the  capacity  of  the  colored  people  for  education,  it 
is  not  so  significant  in  the  view  we  are  now  taking  of 
the  New  South  as  the  public  schools.  Indeed,  next 


108  South  and  West. 

to  the  amazing  industrial  change  in  the  South,  noth 
ing  is  so  striking  as  the  interest  and  progress  in  the 
matter  of  public  schools.  In  all  the  cities  we  visited 
the  people  were  enthusiastic  about  their  common 
schools.  It  was  a  common  remark,  "  I  suppose  we 
have  one  of  the  best  school  systems  in  the  country." 
There  is  a  wholesome  rivalry  to  have  the  best.  We 
found  everywhere  the  graded  system  and  the  newest 
methods  of  teaching  in  vogue.  In  many  of  the  pri 
mary  rooms  in  both  white  and  colored  schools,  when 
I  asked  if  these  little  children  knew  the  alphabet  when 
they  came  to  school,  the  reply  was,  "  Not  generally. 
We  prefer  they  should  not;  we  use  the  new  method 
of  teaching  words."  In  many  schools  the  youngest 
pupils  were  taught  to  read  music  by  sight,  and  to  un 
derstand  its  notation  by  exercises  on  the  blackboard. 
In  the  higher  classes  generally,  the  instruction  in  arith 
metic,  in  reading,  in  geography,  in  history,  and  in  lit 
erature  was  wholly  in  the  modern  method.  In  some 
of  the  geography  classes  and  in  the  language  classes  I 
was  reminded  of  the  drill  in  the  German  schools.  In 
all  the  cities,  as  far  as  I  could  learn,  the  public  money 
was  equally  distributed  to  the  colored  and  to  the 
white  schools,  and  the  number  of  schools  bore  a  just 
proportion  to  the  number  of  the  two  races.  When 
the  town  was  equally  divided  in  population,  the  num 
ber  of  pupils  in  the  colored  schools  was  about  the 
same  as  the  number  in  the  white  schools.  There  was 
this  exception:  though  provision  was  made  for  a  high- 
school  to  terminate  the  graded  for  both  colors,  the 
number  in  the  colored  high-school  department  was 
usually  very  small;  and  the  reason  given  by  colored 
and  white  teachers  was  that  the  colored  children  had 


The  South  Revisited.  109 

not  yet  worked  up  to  it.  The  colored  people  prefer 
teachers  of  their  own  race,  and  they  are  quite  gener 
ally  employed;  but  many  of  the  colored  schools  have 
white  teachers,  and  generally,  I  think,  with  better  re 
sults,  although  I  saw  many  thoroughly  good  colored 
teachers,  and  one  or  two  colored  classes  under  them 
that  compared  favorably  with  any  white  classes  of  the 
same  grade. 

The  great  fact,  however,  is  that  the  common-school 
system  has  become  a  part  of  Southern  life,  is  every 
where  accepted  as  a  necessity,  and  usually  money  is 
freely  voted  to  sustain  it.  But  practically,  as  an  effi 
cient  factor  in  civilization,  the  system  is  yet  undevel 
oped  in  the  country  districts.  I  can  only  speak  from 
personal  observation  of  the  cities,  but  the  universal 
testimony  was  that  the  common  schools  in  the  coun 
try  for  both  whites  and  blacks  are  poor.  Three 
months'  schooling  in  the  year  is  about  the  rule,  and 
that  of  a  slack  and  inferior  sort,  under  incompetent 
teachers.  In  some  places  the  colored  people  complain 
that  ignorant  teachers  are  put  over  them,  who  are 
chosen  simply  on  political  considerations.  More  than 
one  respectable  colored  man  told  me  that  he  would 
not  send  his  children  to  such  schools,  but  combined 
with  a  few  others  to  get  them  private  instruction. 
The  colored  people  are  more  dependent  on  public 
schools  than  the  whites,  for  while  there  are  vast  mass 
es  of  colored  people  in  city  and  country  who  have  nei 
ther  the  money  nor  the  disposition  to  sustain  schools, 
in  all  the  large  places  the  whites  are  able  to  have  ex 
cellent  private  schools,  and  do  have  them.  Scarcely 
anywhere  can  the  colored  people  as  yet  have  a  private 
school  without  white  aid  from  somewhere.  At  the 


110  South  and  West. 

present  rate  of  progress,  and  even  of  the  increase  of 
tax-paying  ability,  it  must  be  a  long  time  before  the 
ignorant  masses,  white  and  black,  in  the  country  dis 
tricts,  scattered  over  a  wide  area,  can  have  public 
schools  at  all  efficient.  The  necessity  is  great.  The 
danger  to  the  State  of  ignorance  is  more  and  more  ap 
prehended;  and  it  is  upon  this  that  many  of  the  best 
men  of  the  South  base  their  urgent  appeal  for  tem 
porary  aid  from  the  Federal  Government  for  public 
schools.  It  is  seen  that  a  State  cannot  soundly  pros 
per  unless  its  laborers  are  to  some  degree  intelligent. 
This  opinion  is  shown  in  little  things.  One  of  the 
great  planters  of  the  Yazoo  Delta  told  me  that  he 
used  to  have  no  end  of  trouble  in  settling  with  his 
hands.  But  now  that  numbers  of  them  can  read  and 
cipher,  and  explain  the  accounts  to  the  others,  he  never 
has  the  least  trouble. 

One  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  the  private  schools 
in  the  South,  especially  of  those  for  young  women.  I 
do  not  know  what  they  were  before  the  war,  probably 
mainly  devoted  to  "  accomplishments,"  as  most  of 
girls'  schools  in  the  North  were.  Now  most  of  them 
are  wider  in  range,  thorough  in  discipline,  excellent 
in  all  the  modern  methods.  Some  of  them,  under  ac 
complished  women,  are  entirely  in  line  with  the  best 
in  the  country.  Before  leaving  this  general  subject 
of  education,  it  is  necessary  to  say  that  the  advisabili 
ty  of  industrial  training,  as  supplementary  to  book- 
learning,  is  growing  in  favor,  and  that  in  some  colored 
schools  it  is  tried  with  good  results. 

When  we  come  to  the  New  Industrial  South  the 
change  is  marvellous,  and  so  vast  and  various  that  I 
scarcely  know  where  to  begin  in  a  short  paper  that 


The  South  Revisited.  Ill 

cannot  go  much  into  details.  Instead  of  a  South  de 
voted  to  agriculture  and  politics,  we  find  a  South  wide 
awake  to  business,  excited  and  even  astonished  at  the 
development  of  its  own  immense  resources  in  metals, 
marbles,  coal,  timber,  fertilizers,  eagerly  laying  lines 
of  communication,  rapidly  opening  mines,  building 
furnaces,  founderies,  and  all  sorts  of  shops  for  util 
izing  the  native  riches.  It  is  like  the  discovery  of  a 
new  world.  When  the  Northerner  finds  great  foun 
deries  in  Virginia  using  only  (with  slight  exceptions) 
the  products  of  Virginia  iron  and  coal  mines  ;  when 
ho  finds  Alabama  and  Tennessee  making  iron  so  good 
and  so  cheap  that  it  finds  ready  market  in  Pennsylva 
nia,  and  founderies  multiplying  near  the  great  fur 
naces  for  supplying  Northern  markets ;  when  he  finds 
cotton -mills  running  to  full  capacity  on  grades  of 
cheap  cottons  universally  in  demand  throughout  the 
South  and  South-west;  when  he  finds  small  industries, 
such  as  paper-box  factories  and  wooden  bucket  and 
tub  factories,  sending  all  they  can  make  into  the 
North  and  widely  over  the  West;  when  he  sees  the 
loads  of  most  beautiful  marbles  shipped  North;  when 
he  learns  that  some  of  the  largest  and  most  important 
engines  and  mill  machinery  were  made  in  Southern 
shops ;  when  he  finds  in  Richmond  a  "  pole  locomo 
tive,"  made  to  run  on  logs  laid  end  to  end,  and  drag 
out  from  Michigan  forests  and  Southern  swamps  lum 
ber  hitherto  inaccessible;  when  he  sees  worn-out  high 
lands  in  Georgia  and  Carolina  bear  more  cotton  than 
ever  before  by  help  of  a  fertilizer  the  base  of  which  is 
the  cotton-seed  itself  (worth  more  as  a  fertilizer  than 
it  was  before  the  oil  was  extracted  from  it);  when  he 
sees  a  multitude  of  small  shops  giving  employment  to 


112  South  and  West. 

men,  women,  and  children  who  never  had  any  work  of 
that  sort  to  do  before  ;  and  when  he  sees  Roanoke 
iron  cast  in  Richmond  into  car-irons,  and  returned  to 
a  car-factory  in  Roanoke  which  last  year  sold  three 
hundred  cars  to  the  New  York  and  New  England  Rail 
road — he  begins  to  open  his  eyes.  The  South  is  man 
ufacturing  a  great  variety  of  things  needed  in  the 
house,  on  the  farm,  and  in  the  shops,  for  home  con 
sumption,  and  already  sends  to  the  North  and  West 
several  manufactured  products.  With  iron,  coal,  tim 
ber  contiguous  and  easily  obtained,  the  amount  sent 
out  is  certain  to  increase  as  the  labor  becomes  more 
skilful.  The  most  striking  industrial  development  to 
day  is  in  iron,  coal,  lumber,  and  marbles ;  the  more 
encouraging  for  the  self-sustaining  life  of  the  South 
ern  people  is  the  multiplication  of  small  industries  in 
nearly  every  city  I  visited. 

When  I  have  been  asked  what  impressed  me  most 
in  this  hasty  tour,  I  have  always  said  that  the  most 
notable  thing  was  that  everybody  was  at  work.  In 
many  cities  this  was  literally  true:  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  was  actively  employed,  and  in  most  there 
were  fewer  idlers  than  in  many  Northern  towns. 
There  are,  of  course,  slow  places,  antiquated  methods, 
easy  -  going  ways,  a  -  hundred  -  years  -  behind  -  the  -  time 
makeshifts,  but  the  spirit  in  all  the  centres,  and  leav 
ening  the  whole  country,  is  work.  Perhaps  the  great 
est  revolution  of  all  in  Southern  sentiment  is  in  re 
gard  to  the  dignity  of  labor.  Labor  is  honorable, 
made  so  by  the  example  of  the  best  in  the  land. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  fossils  or  Bourbons,  sitting  in 
the  midst  of  the  ruins  of  their  estates,  martyrs  to  an 
ancient  pride;  but  usually  the  leaders  in  business  and 


The  South  Revisited.  113 

enterprise  bear  names  well  known  in  politics  and  so 
ciety.  The  nonsense  that  it  is  beneath  the  dignity  of 
any  man  or  woman  to  work  for  a  living  is  pretty  much 
eliminated  from  the  Southern  mind.  It  still  remains 
true  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  type  is  prevalent  in  the 
South;  but  in  all  the  cities  the  business  sign-boards 
show  that  the  enterprising  Hebrew  is  increasingly 
prominent  as  merchant  and  trader,  and  he  is  becom 
ing  a  plantation  owner  as  well. 

It  cannot  be  too  strongly  impressed  upon  the  public 
mind  that  the  South,  to  use  a  comprehensible  phrase, 
"has  joined  the  procession."  Its  mind  is  turned  to 
the  development  of  its  resources,  to  business,  to  enter 
prise,  to  education,  to  economic  problems  ;  it  is  march 
ing  with  the  North  in  the  same  purpose  of  wealth  by 
industry.  It  is  true  that  the  railways,  mines,  and 
furnaces  could  not  have  been  without  enormous  in 
vestments  of  Northern  capital,  but  I  was  continually 
surprised  to  find  so  many  and  important  local  indus 
tries  the  result  solely  of  home  capital,  made  and  saved 
since  the  war. 

In  this  industrial  change,  in  the  growth  of  manu 
factures,  the  Southern  people  are  necessarily  divided 
on  the  national  economic  problems.  Speaking  of  it 
purely  from  the  side  of  political  economy  and  not  of 
politics,  great  sections  of  the  South — whole  States,  in 
fact — are  becoming  more  in  favor  of  "protection" 
every  day.  All  theories  aside,  whenever  a  man  begins 
to  work  up  the  raw  material  at  hand  into  manufact 
ured  articles  for  the  market,  he  thinks  that  the  revenue 
should  be  so  adjusted  as  to  help  and  not  to  hinder  him. 

Underlying  everything  else  is  the  negro  problem. 
It  is  the  most  difficult  ever  given  to  a  people  to  solve. 
8 


114:  South  and  West. 

It  must,  under  our  Constitution,  be  left  to  the  States 
concerned,  and  there  is  a  general  hopefulness  that 
time  and  patience  will  solve  it  to  the  advantage  of 
both  races.  The  negro  is  generally  regarded  as  the 
best  laborer  in  the  world,  and  there  is  generally  good 
will  towards  him,  desire  that  he  shall  be  educated  and 
become  thrifty.  The  negro  has  more  confidence  now 
than  formerly  in  the  white  man,  and  he  will  go  to  him 
for  aid  and  advice  in  everything  except  politics. 
Again  and  again  colored  men  said  to  me,  "If  anybody 
tells  you  that  any  considerable  number  of  colored 
men  are  Democrats,  don't  you  believe  him  ;  it  is  not 
so."  The  philanthropist  who  goes  South  will  find 
many  things  to  encourage  him,  but  if  he  knows  the 
colored  people  thoroughly,  he  will  lose  many  illusions. 
But  to  speak  of  things  hopeful,  the  progress  in  educa 
tion,  in  industry,  in  ability  to  earn  money,  is  extraor 
dinary — much  greater  than  ought  to  have  been  ex 
pected  in  twenty  years  even  by  their  most  sanguine 
friends,  and  it  is  greater  now  than  at  any  other  period. 
They  are  generally  well  paid,  according  to  the  class 
of  work  they  do.  Usually  I  found  the  same  wages 
for  the  same  class  of  work  as  whites  received.  I  can 
not  say  how  this  is  in  remote  country  districts.  The 
treatment  of  laborers  depends,  I  have  no  doubt,  as 
elsewhere,  upon  the  nature  of  the  employer.  In  some 
districts  I  heard  that  the  negroes  never  got  out  of 
debt,  never  could  lay  up  anything,  and  were  in  a  very 
bad  condition.  But  on  some  plantations  certainly, 
and  generally  in  the  cities,  there  is  an  improvement 
in  thrift  shown  in  the  ownership  of  bits  of  land 
and  houses,  and  in  the  possession  of  neat  and  pret 
ty  homes.  As  to  morals.,  the  gain  is  slower,  but  it  is 


The  South  Revisited.  115 

discernible,  and  exhibited  in  a  growing  public  opinion 
against  immorality  and  lax  family  relations.  He  is 
no  friend  to  the  colored  people  who  blinks  this  sub 
ject,  and  does  not  plainly  say  to  them  that  their  posi 
tion  as  citizens  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  civil  rights 
depends  quite  as  much  upon  their  personal  virtue  and 
their  acquiring  habits  of  thrift  as  it  does  upon  school 
privileges. 

I  had  many  interesting  talks  with  representative 
colored  men  in  different  sections.  While  it  is  un 
doubtedly  true  that  more  are  indifferent  to  politics 
than  formerly,  owing  to  causes  already  named  and  to 
the  unfulfilled  promises  of  wheedling  politicians,  it 
would  be  untrue  to  say  that  there  is  not  great  sore 
ness  over  the  present  situation.  At  Nashville  I  had 
an  interview  with  eight  or  ten  of  the  best  colored 
citizens,  men  of  all  shades  of  color.  One  of  them 
was  a  trusted  clerk  in  the  post-office ;  another  was  a 
mail  agent,  who  had  saved  money,  and  made  more  by 
an  investment  in  Birmingham  ;  another  was  a  lawyer 
of  good  practice  in  the  courts,  a  man  of  decided  re 
finement  and  cultivation ;  another  was  at  the  head  of 
one  of  the  leading  transportation  lines  in  the  city,  and 
another  had  the  largest  provision  establishment  in 
town,  and  both  were  men  of  considerable  property ; 
and  another,  a  slave  when  the  war  ended,  was  a  large 
furniture  dealer,  and  reputed  worth  a  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars.  They  were  all  solid,  sensible  business 
men,  and  all  respected  as  citizens.  They  talked  most 
intelligently  of  politics,  and  freely  about  social  condi 
tions.  In  regard  to  voting  in  Tennessee  there  was 
little  to  complain  of  ;  but  in  regard  to  Mississippi,  as 
an  illustration,  it  was  an  outrage  that  the  dominant 


116  South  and  West. 

party  had  increased  power  in  Congress  and  in  the 
election  of  President,  while  the  colored  Republican 
vote  did  not  count.  What  could  they  do?  Some 
said  that  probably  nothing  could  be  done ;  time  must 
be  left  to  cure  the  wrong.  Others  wanted  the  Fed 
eral  Government  to  interfere,  at  least  to  the  extent  of 
making  a  test  case  on  some  member  of  Congress  that 
his  election  was  illegal.  They  did  not  think  that 
need  excite  anew  any  race  prejudice.  As  to  exciting 
race  and  sectional  agitation,  we  discussed  this  ques 
tion  :  whether  the  present  marvellous  improvement 
of  the  colored  people,  with  general  good-will,  or  at 
least  a  truce  everywhere,  would  not  be  hindered  by 
anything  like  a  race  or  class  agitation  ;  that  is  to  say, 
whether  under  the  present  conditions  of  education 
and  thrift  the  colored  people  (whatever  injustice  they 
felt)  were  not  going  on  faster  towards  the  realization 
of  all  they  wanted  than  would  be  possible  under  any 
circumstances  of  adverse  agitation.  As  a  matter  of 
policy  most  of  them  assented  to  this.  I  put  this  ques 
tion  :  "  In  the  first  reconstruction  days,  how  many 
colored  men  were  there  in  the  State  of  Mississippi 
fitted  either  by  knowledge  of  letters,  law,  political 
economy,  history,  or  politics  to  make  laws  for  the 
State?"  Very  few.  Well,  then,  it  was  unfortunate 
that  they  should  have  attempted  it.  There  are  more 
to-day,  and  with  education  and  the  accumulation  of 
property  the  number  will  constantly  increase.  In  a 
republic,  power  usually  goes  with  intelligence  and 
property. 

Finally  I  asked  this  intelligent  company,  every 
man  of  which  stood  upon  his  own  ability  in  perfect 
self-respect,  "  What  do  you  want  here  in  the  way  of 


The  South  Revisited.  117 

civil  rights  that  you  have  not  ?"  The  reply  from  one 
was  that  he  got  the  respect  of  the  whites  just  as  he 
was  able  to  command  it  by  his  ability  and  by  making 
money,  and,  with  a  touch  of  a  sense  of  injustice,  he 
said  he  had  ceased  to  expect  that  the  colored  race 
would  get  it  in  any  other  way.  Another  reply  was — 
and  this  was  evidently  the  deep  feeling  of  all :  "  We 
want  to  be  treated  like  men,  like  anybody  else,  regard 
less  of  color.  We  don't  mean  by  this  social  equality 
at  all;  that  is  a  matter  that  regulates  itself  among 
whites  and  colored  people  everywhere.  We  want  the 
public  conveyances  open  to  us  according  to  the  fare  we 
pay  ;  we  want  privilege  to  go  to  hotels  and  to  theatres, 
operas  and  places  of  amusement.  We  wish  you  could 
see  our  families  and  the  way  we  live  ;  you  would  then 
understand  that  we  cannot  go  to  the  places  assigned 
us  in  concerts  and  theatres  without  loss  of  self-re 
spect."  I  might  have  said,  but  I  did  not,  that  the 
question  raised  by  this  last  observation  is  not  a  local 
one,  but  as  wide  as  the  world. 

If  I  tried  to  put  in  a  single  sentence  the  most  wide 
spread  and  active  sentiment  in  the  South  to-day,  it 
would  be  this  :  The  past  is  put  behind  us  ;  we  are 
one  with  the  North  in  business  and  national  ambi 
tion  :  we  want  a  sympathetic  recognition  of  this  fact. 


VII. 
A  FAR  AND  FAIR  COUNTRY. 

LEWIS  and  Clarke,  sent  out  by  Mr.  Jefferson  in  1804 
to  discover  the  North-west  by  the  route  of  the  Mis 
souri  River,  left  the  town  of  St.  Charles  early  in  the 
spring,  sailed  and  poled  and  dragged  their  boats  up 
the  swift,  turbulent,  and  treacherous  stream  all  sum 
mer,  wintered  with  the  Mandan  Indians,  and  reached 
the  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  in  about  a  year  and  a 
quarter  from  the  beginning  of  their  voyage.  Now, 
when  we  wish  to  rediscover  this  interesting  country, 
which  is  still  virgin  land,  we  lay  down  a  railway-track 
in  the  spring  and  summer,  and  go  over  there  in  the 
autumn  in  a  palace-car — a  much  more  expeditious  and 
comfortable  mode  of  exploration. 

In  beginning  a  series  of  observations  and  comments 
upon  Western  life  it  is  proper  to  say  that  the  reader 
is  not  to  expect  exhaustive  statistical  statements  of 
growth  or  development,  nor  descriptions,  except  such 
as  will  illustrate  the  point  of  view  taken  of  the  mak 
ing  of  the  Great  West.  Materialism  is  the  most  ob 
trusive  feature  of  a  cursory  observation,  but  it  does 
not  interest  one  so  much  as  the  forces  that  underlie 
it,  the  enterprise  and  the  joyousness  of  conquest  and 
achievement  that  it  stands  for,  or  the  liner  processes 
evolved  in  the  marvellous  building  up  of  new  societies. 
What  is  the  spirit,  what  is  the  civilization  of  the 
West  ?  I  have  not  the  presumption  to  expect  to  an- 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  119 

swer  these  large  questions  to  any  one's  satisfaction — 
least  of  all  to  my  own — but  if  I  may  be  permitted  to 
talk  about  them  familiarly,  in  the  manner  that  one 
speaks  to  his  friends  of  what  interested  him  most  in  a 
journey,  and  with  flexibility  in  passing  from  one  topic 
to  another,  I  shall  hope  to  contribute  something  to  a 
better  understanding  between  the  territories  of  a  vast 
empire.  How  vast  this  republic  is,  no  one  can  at  all 
appreciate  who  does  not  actually  travel  over  its  wide 
areas.  To  many  of  us  the  West  is  still  the  West  of 
the  geographies  of  thirty  years  ago ;  it  is  the  simple 
truth  to  say  that  comparatively  few  Eastern  people 
have  any  adequate  conception  of  what  lies  west  of 
Chicago  and  St.  Louis :  perhaps  a  hazy  geographical 
notion  of  it,  but  not  the  faintest  idea  of  its  civilization 
and  society.  Now,  a  good  understanding  of  each  oth 
er  between  the  great  sections  of  the  republic  is  politi 
cally  of  the  first  importance.  We  shall  hang  together 
as  a  nation  ;  blood,  relationship,  steel  rails,  navigable 
waters,  trade,  absence  of  natural  boundaries,  settle 
that.  We  shall  pull  and  push  and  grumble,  we  shall 
vituperate  each  other,  parties  will  continue  to  make 
capital  out  of  sectional  prejudice,  and  wantonly  in 
flame  it  (what  a  pitiful  sort  of  "  politics  "  that  is!), 
but  we  shall  stick  together  like  wax.  Still,  anything 
like  smooth  working  of  our  political  machine  depends 
upon  good  understanding  between  sections.  And  the 
remark  applies  to  East  and  West  as  well  as  to  North 
and  South.  It  is  a  common  remark  at  the  West  that 
"  Eastern  people  know  nothing  about  us  ;  they  think 
us  half  civilized  ;"  and  there  is  mingled  with  slight 
irritability  at  this  ignorance  a  waxing  feeling  of  supe 
riority  over  the  East  in  force  and  power.  One  would 


120  South  and  West. 

not  say  that  repose  as  yet  goes  along  with  this  sense 
of  great  capacity  and  great  achievement ;  indeed,  it 
is  inevitable  that  in  a  condition  of  development  and 
of  quick  growth  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the 
world  there  should  be  abundant  self-assertion  and 
even  monumental  boastfulness. 

When  the  Western  man  goes  East  he  carries  the 
consciousness  of  playing  a  great  part  in  the  making 
of  an  empire  ;  his  horizon  is  large  ;  but  he  finds  him 
self  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  indifference  or 
non-comprehension  of  the  prodigiousness  of  his  coun 
try,  of  incredulity  as  to  the  refinement  and  luxury  of 
his  civilization ;  and  self-assertion  is  his  natural  de 
fence.  This  longitudinal  incredulity  and  swagger  is 
a  curious  phenomenon.  London  thinks  New  York 
puts  on  airs,  New  York  complains  of  Chicago's  want 
of  modesty,  Chicago  can  see  that  Kansas  City  and 
Omaha  are  aggressively  boastful,  and  these  cities  ac 
knowledge  the  expansive  self -appreciation  of  Denver 
and  Helena. 

Does  going  West  work  a  radical  difference  in  a 
man's  character?  Hardly.  We  are  all  cut  out  of 
the  same  piece  of  cloth.  The  Western  man  is  the 
Eastern  or  the  Southern  man  let  loose,  with  his  lead 
ing-strings  cut.  But  the  change  of  situation  creates 
immense  diversity  in  interests  and  in  spirit.  One  has 
but  to  take  up  any  of  the  great  newspapers,  say  in  St. 
Paul  or  Minneapolis,  to  be  aware  that  he  is  in  another 
world  of  ideas,  of  news,  of  interests.  The  topics  that 
most  interest  the  East  he  does  not  find  there,  nor  much 
of  its  news.  Persons  of  whom  he  reads  daily  in  the 
East  drop  out  of  sight,  and  other  persons,  magnates 
in  politics,  packing,  railways,  loom  up.  It  takes  col- 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  121 

tunns  to  tell  the  daily  history  of  places  which  have 
heretofore  only  caught  the  attention  of  the  Eastern 
reader  for  freaks  of  the  thermometer,  and  he  has  an 
opportunity  to  read  daily  pages  about  Dakota,  con 
cerning  which  a  weekly  paragraph  has  formerly  satis 
fied  his  curiosity.  Before  he  can  be  absorbed  in  these 
lively  and  intelligent  newspapers  he  must  change  the 
whole  current  of  his  thoughts,  and  take  up  other  sub 
jects,  persons,  and  places  than  those  that  have  occu 
pied  his  mind.  He  is  in  a  new  world. 

One  of  the  most  striking  facts  in  the  West  is  State 
pride,  attachment  to  the  State,  the  profound  belief  of 
every  citizen  that  his  State  is  the  best.  Engendered 
perhaps  at  first  by  a  permanent  investment  and  the 
spur  of  self-interest,  it  speedily  becomes  a  passion,  as 
strong  in  the  newest  State  as  it  is  in  any  one  of  the 
original  thirteen.  Rivalry  between  cities  is  sharp, 
and  civic  pride  is  excessive,  but  both  are  outdone  by 
the  larger  devotion  to  the  commonwealth.  And  this 
pride  is  developed  in  the  inhabitants  of  a  Territory  as 
soon  as  it  is  organized.  Montana  has  condensed  the 
ordinary  achievements  of  a  century  into  twenty  years, 
and  loyalty  to  its  present  and  expectation  of  its  future 
are  as  strong  in  its  citizens  as  is  the  attachment  of 
men  of  Massachusetts  to  the  State  of  nearly  three 
centuries  of  growth.  In  Nebraska  I  was  pleased  with 
the  talk  of  a  clergyman  who  had  just  returned  from 
three  months'  travel  in  Europe.  He  was  full  of  his 
novel  experiences ;  he  had  greatly  enjoyed  the  trip  ; 
but  he  was  glad  to  get  back  to  Nebraska  and  its  full, 
vigorous  life.  In  England  and  on  the  Continent  he 
had  seen  much  to  interest  him ;  but  he  could  not  help 
comparing  Europe  with  Nebraska ;  and  as  for  him, 


122  South  and  West. 

this  was  the  substance  of  it :  give  him  Nebraska  ev 
ery  time.  What  astonished  him  most,  and  wounded 
his  feelings  (and  there  was  a  note  of  pathos  in  his 
statement  of  it),  was  the  general  foreign  ignorance 
abroad  about  Nebraska — the  utter  failure  in  the  Eu 
ropean  mind  to  take  it  in.  I  felt  guilty,  for  to  me  it 
had  been  little  more  than  a  geographical  expression, 
and  I  presume  the  Continent  did  not  know  whether 
Nebraska  was  a  new  kind  of  patent  medicine  or  a 
new  sort  of  religion.  To  the  clergymen  this  igno 
rance  of  the  central,  richest,  about-to-be-the-most-im- 
portant  of  States,  was  simply  incredible. 

This  feeling  is  not  only  admirable  in  itself,  but  it 
has  an  incalculable  political  value,  especially  in  the 
West,  where  there  is  a  little  haze  as  to  the  limita 
tions  of  Federal  power,  and  a  notion  that  the  Consti 
tution  was  swaddling-clothes  for  an  infant,  which 
manly  limbs  may  need  to  kick  off.  Healthy  and 
even  assertive  State  pride  is  the  only  possible  coun 
terbalance  in  our  system  against  that  centralization 
which  tends  to  corruption  in  the  centre  and  weakness 
and  discontent  in  the  individual  members. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  West,  speaking  of  it 
generally,  is  defiantly  "American."  It  wants  a  more 
vigorous  and  assertive  foreign  policy.  Conscious  of 
its  power,  the  growing  pains  in  the  limbs  of  the  young 
giant  will  not  let  it  rest.  That  this  is  the  most  mag 
nificent  country,  that  we  have  the  only  government 
beyond  criticism,  that  our  civilization  is  far  and  away 
the  best,  does  not  admit  of  doubt.  It  is  refreshing  to 
see  men  who  believe  in  something  heartily  and  with 
out  reserve,  even  if  it  is  only  in  themselves.  There  is 
a  tonic  in  this  challenge  of  all  time  and  history.  A 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  123 

certain  attitude  of  American  assertion  towards  other 
powers  is  desired.  For  want  of  this  our  late  repre 
sentatives  to  Great  Britain  are  said  to  be  un-Amer 
ican  ;  "political  dudes"  is  what  the  Governor  of  Iowa 
calls  them.  It  is  his  indictment  against  the  present 
Minister  to  St.  James  that  "  he  is  numerous  in  his  vis 
its  to  the  castles  of  English  noblemen,  and  profuse  in 
his  obsequiousness  to  British  aristocrats."  And  per 
haps  the  Governor  speaks  for  a  majority  of  Western 
voters  and  fighters  when  he  says  that  "  timidity  has 
characterized  our  State  Department  for  the  last  twen 
ty  years." 

By  chance  I  begin  these  Western  studies  with  the 
North-west.  Passing  by  for  the  present  the  intelli 
gent  and  progressive  State  of  Wisconsin,  we  will  con 
sider  Minnesota  and  the  vast  region  at  present  more 
or  less  tributary  to  it.  It  is  necessary  to  remember 
that  the  State  was  admitted  to  the  Union  in  1858,  and 
that  its  extraordinary  industrial  development  dates 
from  the  building  of  the  first  railway  in  its  limits — 
ten  miles  from  St.  Paul  to  St.  Anthony— in  1862.  For 
this  road  the  first  stake  was  driven  and  the  first 
shovelful  of  earth  lifted  by  a  citizen  of  St.  Paul  who 
has  lived  to  see  his  State  gridironed  with  railways, 
and  whose  firm  constructed  in  1887  over  eleven  hun 
dred  miles  of  railroad. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  the  familiar  facts 
that  Minnesota  is  a  great  wheat  State,  and  that  it  is 
intersected  by  railways  that  stimulate  the  enormous 
yield  and  market  it  with  facility.  The  discovery  that 
the  State,  especially  the  Red  River  Valley,  and  Da 
kota  and  the  country  beyond,  were  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  production  of  hard  spring-wheat,  which  is  the 


124  South  and  West. 

most  desirable  for  flour,  probably  gave  this  vast  re 
gion  its  first  immense  advantage.  Minnesota,  a  prairie 
country,  rolling,  but  with  no  important  hills,  well  wa 
tered,  well  grassed,  with  a  repellent  reputation  for  se 
vere  winters,  not  well  adapted  to  corn,  nor  friendly  to 
most  fruits,  attracted  nevertheless  hardy  and  advent 
urous  people,  and  proved  specially  inviting  to  the 
Scandinavians,  who  are  tough  and  industrious.  It 
would  grow  wheat  without  end.  And  wheat  is  the 
easiest  crop  to  raise,  and  returns  the  greatest  income 
for  the  least  labor.  In  good  seasons  and  with  good 
prices  it  is  a  mine  of  wealth.  But  Minnesota  had  to 
learn  that  one  industry  does  not  suffice  to  make  a 
State,  and  that  wheat-raising  alone  is  not  only  unre 
liable,  but  exhaustive.  The  grasshopper  scourge  was 
no  doubt  a  blessing  in  disguise.  It  helped  to  turn 
the  attention  of  farmers  to  cattle  and  sheep,  and  to 
more  varied  agriculture.  I  shall  have  more  to  say 
about  this  in  connection  with  certain  most  interesting 
movements  in  Wisconsin. 

The  notion  has  prevailed  that  the  North-w^est  was 
being  absorbed  by  owners  of  immense  tracts  of  land, 
great  capitalists  who  by  the  aid  of  machinery  were 
monopolizing  the  production  of  wheat,  and  crowding 
out  small  farmers.  There  are  still  vast  wheat  farms 
under  one  control,  but  I  am  happy  to  believe  that  the 
danger  of  this  great  land  monopoly  has  reached  its 
height,  and  the  tendency  is  the  other  way.  Small 
farms  are  on  the  increase,  practising  a  more  varied 
agriculture.  The  reason  is  this  :  A  plantation  of 
5000  or  15,000  acres,  with  a  good  season,  freedom 
from  blight  and  insects,  will  enrich  the  owner  if  prices 
are  good ;  but  one  poor  crop,  with  low  prices,  will 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  125 

bankrupt  him.  Whereas  the  small  farmer  can  get  a 
living  under  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  and  tak 
ing  one  year  with  another,  accumulate  something,  es 
pecially  if  he  varies  his  products  and  feeds  them  to 
stock,  thus  returning  the  richness  of  his  farm  to  itself. 
The  skinning  of  the  land  by  sending  away  its  sub 
stance  in  hard  wheat  is  an  improvidence  of  natural 
resources,  which  belongs,  like  cattle-ranging,  to  a  half- 
civilized  era,  and  like,  cattle-ranging  has  probably  seen 
its  best  days.  One  incident  illustrates  what  can  be 
done.  Mr.  James  J.  Hill,  the  president  of  the  Mani 
toba  railway  system,  an  importer  and  breeder  of  fine 
cattle  on  his  Minnesota  country  place,  recently  gave 
and  loaned  a  number  of  blooded  bulls  to  farmers  over 
a  wide  area  in  Minnesota  and  Dakota.  The  result  of 
this  benefaction  has  been  surprising  in  adding  to  the 
wealth  of  those  regions  and  the  prosperity  of  the 
farmers.  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  varied  farming  and 
of  cattle  production,  which  will  be  of  incalculable 
benefit  to  the  North-west. 

It  is  in  the  memory  of  men  still  in  active  life  when 
the  Territory  of  Minnesota  was  supposed  to  be  be 
yond  the  pale  of  desirable  settlement.  The  State,  ex 
cept  in  the  north-east  portion,  is  now  well  settled,  and 
well  sprinkled  with  thriving  villages  and  cities.  Of 
the  latter,  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis  are  still  a  wonder 
to  themselves,  as  they  are  to  the  world.  I  knew  that 
they  were  big  cities,  having  each  a  population  nearly 
approaching  175,000,  but  I  was  not  prepared  to  find 
them  so  handsome  and  substantial,  and  exhibiting 
such  vigor  and  activity  of  movement.  One  of  the 
most  impressive  things  to  an  Eastern  man  in  both  of 
them  is  their  public  spirit,  and  the  harmony  with 


126  South  and  West. 

which,  business  men  work  together  for  anything  which 
will  build  up  and  beautify  the  city.  I  believe  that 
the  ruling  force  in  Minneapolis  is  of  New  England 
stock,  while  St.  Paul  has  a  larger  proportion  of  New 
York  people,  with  a  mixture  of  Southern  ;  and  I  have 
a  fancy  that  there  is  a  social  shading  that  shows  this 
distinction.  It  is  worth  noting,  however,  that  the 
Southerner,  transplanted  to  Minnesota  or  Montana, 
loses  the  laisser  faire  with  which  he  is  credited  at 
honi3,  and  becomes  as  active  and  pushing  as  anybody. 
Both  cities  have  a  very  large  Scandinavian  population. 
The  laborers  and  the  domestic  servants  are  mostly 
Swedes.  In  forecasting  what  sort  of  a  State  Minne 
sota  is  to  be,  the  Scandinavian  is  a  largely  determin 
ing  force.  It  is  a  virile  element.  The  traveller  is 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  women  whom  he 
sees  at  the  stations  in  the  country  and  in  the  city 
streets  are  sturdy,  ruddy,  and  better  able  to  endure 
the  protracted  season  of  cold  and  the  highly  stimu 
lating  atmosphere  than  the  American-born  women, 
who  tend  to  become  nervous  in  these  climatic  condi 
tions.  The  Swedes  are  thrifty,  taking  eagerly  to 
politics,  and  as  ready  to  profit  by  them  as  anybody ; 
unreservedly  American  in  intention,  and  on  the  whole, 
good  citizens. 

The  physical  difference  of  the  two  cities  is  mainly 
one  of  situation.  Minneapolis  spreads  out  on  both 
sides  of  the  Mississippi  over  a  plain,  from  the  gigantic 
flouring-mills  and  the  canal  and  the  Falls  of  St.  An 
thony  as  a  centre  (the  falls  being,  by-the-way,  planked 
over  with  a  wooden  apron  to  prevent  the  total  wear 
ing  away  of  the  shaly  rock)  to  rolling  land  and  beau 
tiful  building  sites  on  moderate  elevations.  Nature 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  127 

has  surrounded  the  city  with  a  lovely  country,  diversi 
fied  by  lakes  and  forests,  and  enterprise  has  developed 
it  into  one  of  the  most  inviting  of  summer  regions. 
Twelve  miles  west  of  it,  Lake  Minnetonka,  naturally 
surpassingly  lovely,  has  become,  by  an  immense  ex 
penditure  of  money,  perhaps  the  most  attractive  sum 
mer  resort  in  the  North-west.  Each  city  has  a  hotel 
(the  West  in  Minneapolis,  the  Ryan  in  St.  Paul)  which 
would  be  distinguished  monuments  of  cost  and  ele 
gance  in  any  city  in  the  world,  and  each  city  has 
blocks  of  business  houses,  shops,  and  offices  of  solidity 
and  architectural  beauty,  and  each  has  many  private 
residences  which  are  palaces  in  size,  in  solidity,  and 
interior  embellishment,  but  they  are  scattered  over 
the  city  in  Minneapolis,  which  can  boast  of  no  single 
street  equal  to  Summit  Avenue  in  St.  Paul.  The  most 
conspicuous  of  the  private  houses  is  the  stone  mansion 
of  Governor  Washburn,  pleasing  in  color,  harmonious 
in  design,  but  so  gigantic  that  the  visitor  (who  may 
have  seen  palaces  abroad)  expects  to  find  a  somewhat 
vacant  interior.  He  is  therefore  surprised  that  the 
predominating  note  is  homelikeness  and  comfort,  and 
he  does  not  see  how  a  family  of  moderate  size  could 
well  get  along  with  less  than  the  seventy  rooms  (most 
of  them  large)  which  they  have  at  their  disposal. 

St.  Paul  has  the  advantage  of  picturesqueness  of 
situation.  The  business  part  of  the  town  lies  on  a 
spacious  uneven  elevation  above  the  river,  surrounded 
by  a  semicircle  of  bluffs  averaging  something  like  two 
hundred  feet  high.  Up  the  sides  of  these  the  city 
climbs,  beautifying  every  vantage-ground  with  hand 
some  and  stately  residences.  On  the  north  the  bluffs 
maintain  their  elevation  in  a  splendid  plateau,  and 


128  South  and  West. 

over  this  dry  and  healthful  plain  the  two  cities  advance 
to  meet  each  other,  and  already  meet  in  suburbs,  col 
leges,  and  various  public  buildings.  Summit  Avenue 
curves  along  the  line  of  the  northern  bluff,  and  then 
turns  northward,  two  hundred  feet  broad,  graded  a 
distance  of  over  two  miles,  and  with  a  magnificent 
asphalt  road-way  for  more  than  a  mile.  It  is  almost 
literally  a  street  of  palaces, for  although  wooden  struct 
ures  alternate  with  the  varied  and  architecturally  in 
teresting  mansions  of  stone  and  brick  on  both  sides, 
each  house  is  isolated,  with  a  handsome  lawn  and  orna 
mental  trees,  and  the  total  effect  is  spacious  and  noble. 
This  avenue  commands  an  almost  unequalled  view  of 
the  sweep  of  bluffs  round  to  the  Indian  Mounds,  of 
the  city,  the  winding  river,  and  the  town  and  heights 
of  West  St.  Paul.  It  is  not  easy  to  recall  a  street  and 
view  anywhere  finer  than  this,  and  this  is  only  one  of 
the  streets  on  this  plateau  conspicuous  for  handsome 
houses.  I  see  no  reason  why  St.  Paul  should  not  be 
come,  within  a  few  years,  one  of  the  notably  most 
beautiful  cities  in  the  world.  And  it  is  now  wonder 
fully  well  advanced  in  that  direction.  Of  course  the 
reader  understands  that  both  these  rapidly  growing 
cities  are  in  the  process  of  "  making,"  and  that  means 
cutting  and  digging  and  slashing,  torn-up  streets, 
shabby  structures  alternating  with  gigantic  and  solid 
buildings,  and  the  usual  unsightliness  of  transition  and 
growth. 

Minneapolis  has  the  State  University,  St.  Paul  the 
Capitol,  an  ordinary  building  of  brick,  which  will  not 
long,  it  is  safe  to  say,  suit  the  needs  of  the  pride  of 
the  State.  I  do  not  set  out  to  describe  the  city,  the 
churches,  big  newspaper  buildings,  great  wholesale 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  129 

and  ware  houses,  handsome  club-house  (the  Minnesota 
Club),  stately  City  Hall,  banks,  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
and  so  on.  I  was  impressed  with  the  size  of  the  build 
ings  needed  to  house  the  great  railway  offices.  Noth 
ing  can  give  one  a  livelier  idea  of  the  growth  and 
grasp  of  Western  business  than  one  of  these  plain 
structures,  five  or  six  stories  high,  devoted  to  the  sev 
eral  departments  of  one  road  or  system  of  roads, 
crowded  with  busy  officials  and  clerks,  offices  of  the 
president,  vice-president,  assistant  of  the  president, 
secretary,  treasurer,  engineer,  general  manager,  gen 
eral  superintendent,  general  freight,  general  traffic, 
general  passenger,  perhaps  a  land  officer,  and  so  on — 
affairs  as  complicated  and  vast  in  organization  and  ex 
tensive  in  detail  as  those  of  a  State  government. 

There  are  sixteen  railways  which  run  in  Minnesota, 
having  a  total  mileage  of  5024  miles  in  the  State. 
Those  which  have  over  two  hundred  miles  of  road  in 
the  State  are  the  Chicago  and  North-western,  Chicago, 
Milwaukee,  and  St.  Paul,  Chicago,  St.  Paul,  Minneapo 
lis,  and  Omaha,  Minneapolis  and  St.  Louis,  Northern 
Pacific,  St.  Paul  and  Duluth,  and  the  St.  Paul,  Minne 
apolis,  and  Manitoba.  The  names  of  these  roads  give 
little  indication  of  their  location,  as  the  reader  knows, 
for  many  of  them  run  all  over  the  North-west  like 
spider-webs. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  the  management  of 
these  great  interests — imperial,  almost  continental  in 
scope — requires  brains,  sobriety,  integrity  ;  and  one  is 
not  surprised  to  find  that  the  railways  command  and 
pay  liberally  for  the  highest  talent  and  skill.  It  is 
not  merely  a  matter  of  laying  rails  and  running  trains, 
but  of  developing  the  resources — one  might  almost  say 
9 


130  South  and  West. 

creating  the  industries  —  of  vast  territories.  These 
are  gigantic  interests,  concerning  which  there  is  such 
sharp  rivalry  and  competition,  and  as  a  rule  it  is  the 
generous,  large-minded  policy  that  wins.  Somebody 
has  said  that  the  railway  managers  and  magnates  (I 
do  not  mean  those  who  deal  in  railways  for  the  sake 
of  gambling)  are  the  elite  of  Western  life.  I  am  not 
drawing  distinctions  of  this  sort,  but  I  will  say,  and 
it  might  as  well  be  said  here  and  simply,  that  next  to 
the  impression  I  got  of  the  powerful  hand  of  the  rail 
ways  in  the  making  of  the  West,  was  that  of  the  high 
character,  the  moral  stamina,  the  ability,  the  devotion 
to  something  outside  themselves,  of  the  railway  men 
I  met  in  the  North-west.  Specialists  many  of  them 
are,  and  absorbed  in  special  work,  but  I  doubt  if  any 
other  profession  or  occupation  can  show  a  proportion 
ally  larger  number  of  broad-minded,  fair-minded  men, 
of  higher  integrity  and  less  pettiness,  or  more  inclined 
to  the  liberalizing  culture  in  art  and  social  life.  Ei 
ther  dealing  with  large  concerns  has  lifted  up  the 
men,  or  the  large  opportunities  have  attracted  men  of 
high  talent  and  character;  and  I  sincerely  believe  that 
we  should  have  no  occasion  for  anxiety  if  the  average 
community  did  not  go  below  the  standard  of  railway 
morality  and  honorable  dealing. 

What  is  the  raison  d^etre  of  these  two  phenomenal 
cities  ?  why  do  they  grow  ?  why  are  they  likely  to 
continue  to  grow  ?  I  confess  that  this  was  an  enigma 
to  me  until  I  had  looked  beyond  to  see  what  country 
was  tributary  to  them,  what  a  territory  they  have  to 
supply.  Of  course,  the  railways,  the  flouring  -  mills, 
the  vast  wholesale  dry  goods  and  grocery  houses  speak 
for  themselves.  But  I  had  thought  of  these  cities  as 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  131 

on  the  confines  of  civilization.  They  are,  however, 
the  two  posts  of  the  gate-way  to  an  empire.  In  order 
to  comprehend  their  future,  I  made  some  little  trips 
north-east  and  north-west. 

Duluth,  though  as  yet  with  only  about  twenty-five 
to  thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  feels  itself,  by  its  posi 
tion,  a  rival  of  the  cities  on  the  Mississippi.  A  few 
figures  show  the  basis  of  this  feeling.  In  1880  the 
population  was  3740;  in  1886,  25,000.  In  1880  the 
receipts  of  wheat  were  1,347,679  bushels;  in  1886, 
22,425,730  bushels  ;  in  1880  the  shipments  of  wheat 
1,453,647 bushels;  in  1886, 17,981,965 bushels.  In  1880 
the  shipments  of  flour  were  551,800  bushels  ;  in  1886, 
1,500,000  bushels.  In  1886  there  were  grain  elevators 
with  a  capacity  of  18,000,000  bushels.  The  tax  valu 
ation  had  increased  from  $669,012  in  1880  to  $11,773,- 
729  in  1886.  The  following  comparisons  are  made  : 
The  receipt  of  wheat  in  Chicago  in  1885  was  19,266,- 
000  bushels ;  in  Duluth,  14,880,000  bushels.  The  re 
ceipt  of  wheat  in  1886  was  at  Duluth  22,425,730  bush 
els;  at  Minneapolis,  33,394,450;  at  Chicago,  15,982,524; 
at  Milwaukee,  7,930,102.  This  shows  that  an  increas 
ing  amount  of  the  great  volume  of  wheat  raised  in 
north  Dakota  and  north-west  Minnesota  (that  is,  large 
ly  in  the  Red  River  Valley)  is  seeking  market  by  way 
of  Duluth  and  water  transportation.  In  1869  Min 
nesota  raised  about  18,000,000  bushels  of  wheat;  in 
1886,  about  50,000,000.  In  1869  Dakota  grew  no 
grain  at  all;  in  1886  it  produced  about  50,000,000 
bushels  of  wheat.  To-  understand  the  amount  of 
transportation  the  reader  has  only  to  look  on  the  map 
and  see  the  railway  lines — the  Northern  Pacific,  the 
Chicago,  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Omaha,  the  St. 


132  South  and  West. 

Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Manitoba,  and  other  lines,  run 
ning  to  Duluth,  and  sending  out  spurs,  like  the  roots 
of  an  elm-tree,  into  the  wheat  lands  of  the  North-west. 

Most  of  the  route  from  St.  Paul  to  Duluth  is  unin 
teresting  ;  there  is  nothing  picturesque  except  the 
Dalles  of  the  St.  Louis  River,  and  a  good  deal  of  the 
country  passed  through  seems  agriculturally  of  no 
value.  The  approaches  to  Duluth,  both  from  the 
Wisconsin  and  the  Minnesota  side,  are  rough  and 
vexatious  by  reason  of  broken,  low,  hummocky,  and 
swamp  land.  Duluth  itself,  with  good  harbor  facili 
ties,  has  only  a  strip  of  level  ground  for  a  street,  and 
inadequate  room  for  railway  tracks  and  transfers. 
The  town  itself  climbs  up  the  hill,  whence  there  is  a 
good  view  of  the  lake  and  the  Wisconsin  shore,  and  a 
fair  chance  for  both  summer  and  winter  breezes.  The 
residence  portion  of  the  town,  mainly  small  wooden 
houses,  has  many  highly  ornamental  dwellings,  and 
the  long  street  below,  following  the  shore,  has  many 
noble  buildings  of  stone  and  brick,  which  would  be  a 
credit  to  any  city.  Grading  and  sewer-making  render 
a  large  number  of  the  streets  impassable,  and  add  to 
the  signs  of  push,  growth,  and  business  excitement. 

For  the  purposes  of  trade,  Duluth,  and  the  towns  of 
Superior  and  West  Superior,  in  Wisconsin,  may  be 
considered  one  port ;  and  while  Duluth  may  continue 
to  be  the  money  and  business  centre,  the  expansion 
for  railway  terminal  facilities,  elevators,  and  manu 
factures  is  likely  to  be  in  the  Wisconsin  towns  on  the 
south  side  of  the  harbor.  From  the  Great  Northern 
Elevator  in  West  Superior  the  view  of  the  other  ele 
vators,  of  the  immense  dock  room,  of  the  harbor  and 
lake,  of  a  net-work  of  miles  and  miles  of  terminal 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  133 

tracks  of  the  various  roads,  gives  one  an  idea  of  gigan 
tic  commerce  ;  and  the  long  freight  trains  laden  with 
wheat,  glutting  all  the  roads  and  sidings  approaching 
Duluth,  speak  of  the  bursting  abundance  of  the  trib 
utary  country.  This  Great  Northern  Elevator,  be 
longing  to  the  Manitoba  system,  is  the  largest  in  the 
world;  its  dimensions  are  360  feet  long,  95  in  width, 
115  in  height,  with  a  capacity  of  1,800,000  bushels, 
and  with  facilities  for  handling  40  car-loads  an  hour, 
or  400  cars  in  a  day  of  10  hours.  As  I  am  merely  il 
lustrating  the  amount  of  the  present  great  staple  of 
the  North-west,  I  say  nothing  here  of  the  mineral, 
stone,  and  lumber  business  of  this  region.  Duluth 
has  a  cool,  salubrious  summer  and  a  snug  winter  cli 
mate.  I  ought  to  add  that  the  enterprising  inhabi 
tants  attend  to  education  as  well  as  the  elevation  of 
grain  ;  the  city  has  eight  commodious  school  build 
ings. 

To  return  to  the  Mississippi.  To  understand  what 
feeds  Minneapolis  and  St.  Paul,  and  what  country 
their  great  wholesale  houses  supply,  one  must  take 
the  rail  and  penetrate  the  vast  North-west.  The  fa 
mous  Park  or  Lake  district,  between  St.  Cloud  (75 
miles  north-west  of  St.  Paul)  and  Fergus  Falls,  is  too 
well  known  to  need  description.  A  rolling  prairie, 
with  hundreds  of  small  lakes,  tree  fringed,  it  is  a  re 
gion  of  surpassing  loveliness,  and  already  dotted,  as 
at  Alexandria,  with  summer  resorts.  The  whole  re 
gion,  up  as  far  as  Moorhead  (240  miles  from  St.  Paul), 
on  the  Red  River,  opposite  Fargo,  Dakota,  is  well  set 
tled,  and  full  of  prosperous  towns.  At  Fargo,  cross 
ing  the  Northern  Pacific,  we  ran  parallel  with  the  Red 
River,  through  a  line  of  bursting  elevators  and  wheat 


134:  South  and  West 

farms,  down  to  Grand  Forks,  where  we  turned  west 
ward,  and  passed  out  of  the  Red  River  Valley,  rising 
to  the  plateau  at  Larimore,  some  three  hundred  feet 
above  it. 

The  Red  River,  a  narrow  but  deep  and  navigable 
stream,  has  from  its  source  to  Lake  Winnipeg  a  tort 
uous  course  of  about  600  miles,  while  the  valley  itself 
is  about  285  miles  long,  of  which  180  miles  is  in  the 
United  States.  This  valley,  which  has  astonished  the 
world  by  its  wheat  production,  is  about  160  miles  in 
breadth,  and  level  as  a  floor,  except  that  it  has  a 
northward  slope  of,  I  believe,  about  five  feet  to  the 
mile.  The  river  forms  the  boundary  between  Minne 
sota  and  Dakota ;  the  width  of  valley  on  the  Dakota 
side  varies  from  50  to  100  miles.  The  rich  soil  is 
from  two  to  three  feet  deep,  underlaid  with  clay. 
Fargo,  the  centre  of  this  valley,  is  940  feet  above  the 
sea.  The  climate  is  one  of  extremes  between  winter 
and  summer,  but  of  much  constancy  of  cold  or  heat 
according  to  the  season.  Although  it  is  undeniable 
that  one  does  not  feel  the  severe  cold  there  as  much 
as  in  more  humid  atmospheres,  it  cannot  be  doubted 
that  the  long  continuance  of  extreme  cold  is  trying  to 
the  system.  And  it  may  be  said  of  all  the  North-west, 
including  Minnesota,  that  while  it  is  more  favorable 
to  the  lungs  than  many  regions  where  the  thermometer 
has  less  sinking  power,  it  is  not  free  from  catarrh  (the 
curse  of  New  England),  nor  from  rheumatism.  The 
climate  seems  to  me  specially  stimulating,  and  I 
should  say  there  is  less  excuse  here  for  the  use  of 
stimulants  (on  account  of  "  lowness "  or  lassitude) 
than  in  almost  any  other  portion  of  the  United  States 
with  which  I  am  acquainted. 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  135 

But  whatever  attractions  or  drawbacks  this  terri 
tory  has  as  a  place  of  residence,  its  grain  and  stock 
growing  capacity  is  inexhaustible,  and  having  seen  it, 
we  begin  to  comprehend  the  vigorous  activity  and 
growth  of  the  twin  cities.  And  yet  this  is  the  begin 
ning  of  resources  ;  there  lies  Dakota,  with  its  149,100 
square  miles  (96,596,480  acres  of  land),  larger  than 
all  the  New  England  States  and  New  York  combined, 
and  Montana  beyond,  together  making  a  belt  of  hard 
spring-wheat  land  sufficient,  one  would  think,  to  feed 
the  world.  When  one  travels  over  1200  miles  of  it, 
doubt  ceases. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  the  resources  and  enter 
prise  of  the  North-west  than  by  speaking  in  some  de 
tail  of  the  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Manitoba  Rail 
way  (known  as  the  Manitoba  system),  and  by  telling 
briefly  the  story  of  one  season's  work,  not  because 
this  system  is  bigger  or  more  enterprising  or  of  more 
importance  in  the  West  than  some  others  I  might 
name,  but  because  it  has  lately  pierced  a  compara 
tively  unknown  region,  and  opened  to  settlement  a 
fertile  empire. 

The  Manitoba  system  gridirons  north  Minnesota, 
runs  to  Duluth,  puts  two  tracks  down  the  Red  River 
Valley  (one  on  each  side  of  the  river)  to  the  Canada 
line,  sends  out  various  spurs  into  Dakota,  and  operates 
a  main  line  from  Grand  Forks  westward  through  the 
whole  of  Dakota,  and  through  Montana  as  far  as  the 
Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri,  and  thence  through  the 
canon  of  the  Missouri  and  the  canon  of  the  Prickly- 
Pear  to  Helena — in  all  about  3000  miles  of  track.  Its 
president  is  Mr.  James  J.  Hill,  a  Canadian  by  birth, 
whose  rapid  career  from  that  of  a  clerk  on  the  St. 


136  South  and  West. 

Paul  levee  to  his  present  position  of  influence,  oppor 
tunity,  and  wealth  is  a  romance  in  itself,  and  whose 
character,  integrity,  tastes,  and  accomplishments,  and 
domestic  life,  were  it  proper  to  speak  of  them,  would 
satisfactorily  answer  many  of  the  questions  that  are 
asked  about  the  materialistic  West. 

The  Manitoba  line  west  had  reached  Minot,  530 
miles  from  St.  Paul,  in  1886.  I  shall  speak  of  its  ex 
tension  in  1887,  which  was  intrusted  to  Mr.  D.  C. 
Shepard,  a  veteran  engineer  and  railway  builder  of 
St.  Paul,  and  his  firm,  Messrs.  Shepard,  Winston  & 
Co.  Credit  should  be  given  by  name  to  the  men  who 
conducted  this  .Napoleonic  enterprise  ;  for  it  required 
not  only  the  advance  of  millions  of  money,  but  the 
foresight,  energy,  vigilance,  and  capacity  that  insure 
success  in  a  distant  military  campaign. 

It  needs  to  be  noted  that  the  continuation  of  the 
St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Manitoba  road  from  Great 
Falls  to  Helena,  98  miles,  is  called  the  Montana  Cen 
tral.  The  work  to  be  accomplished  in  1887  was  to 
grade  500  miles  of  railroad  to  reach  Great  Falls,  to 
put  in  the  bridging  and  mechanical  structures  (by 
hauling  all  material  brought  up  by  rail  ahead  of  the 
track  by  teams,  so  as  not  to  delay  the  progress  of  the 
track)  on  530  miles  of  continuous  railway,  and  to  lay 
and  put  in  good  running  condition  643  miles  of  rails 
continuously  and  from  one  end  only. 

In  the  winter  of  1886-87  the  road  was  completed 
to  a  point  five  miles  west  of  Minot,  and  work  was 
done  beyond  which  if  consolidated  would  amount  to 
about  fifty  miles  of  completed  grading,  and  the  me 
chanical  structures  were  done  for  twenty  miles  west 
from  Minot.  On  the  Montana  Central  the  grading 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  137 

and  mechanical  structures  were  made  from  Helena 
as  a  base,  and  completed  before  the  track  reached 
Great  Falls.  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Duluth  were 
the  primary  bases  of  operations,  and  generally  speak 
ing  all  materials,  labor,  fuel,  and  supplies  originated 
at  these  three  points  ;  Minot  was  the  secondary  base, 
and  here  in  the  winter  of  1886-87  large  depots  of  sup 
plies  and  materials  for  construction  were  formed. 

Track-laying  began  April  2,  1887,  but  was  greatly 
retarded  by  snow  and  ice  in  the  completed  cuts,  and 
by  the  grading,  which  was  heavy.  The  cuts  were 
frozen  more  or  less  up  to  May  loth.  The  forwarding 
of  grading  forces  to  Minot  began  April  6th,  but  it 
was  a  labor  of  considerable  magnitude  to  outfit  them 
at  Minot  and  get  them  forward  to  the  work  ;  so  that 
it  was  as  late  as  May  10th  before  the  entire  force  was 
under  employment. 

The  average  force  on  the  grading  was  3300  teams 
and  about  8000  men.  Upon  the  track-laying,  surfac 
ing,  piling,  and  timber-work  there  were  225  teams 
and  about  650  men.  The  heaviest  work  was  en 
countered  on  the  eastern  end,  so  that  the  track  was 
close  upon  the  grading  up  to  the  10th  of  June.  Some 
of  the  cuttings  and  embankments  were  heavy.  After 
the  10th  of  June  progress  upon  the  grading  was  very 
rapid.  From  the  mouth  of  Milk  River  to  Great  Falls 
(a  distance  of  200  miles)  grading  was  done  at  an 
average  rate  of  seven  miles  a  day.  Those  who  saw 
this  army  of  men  and  teams  stretching  over  the 
prairie  and  casting  up  this  continental  highway  think 
they  beheld  one  of  the  most  striking  achievements  of 
civilization. 

I  may  mention  that  the  track  is  all  cast  up  (even 


138  South  and  West. 

where  the  grading  is  easy)  to  such  a  height  as  to  re 
lieve  it  of  drifting  snow  ;  and  to  give  some  idea  of 
the  character  of  the  work,  it  is  noted  that  in  preparing 
it  there  were  moved  9,700,000  cubic  yards  of  earth, 
15,000  cubic  yards  of  loose  rock,  and  17,500  cubic 
yards  of  solid  rock,  and  that  there  were  hauled  ahead 
of  the  track  and  put  in  the  work  to  such  distance  as 
would  not  obstruct  the  track  -  laying  (in  some  in 
stances  30  miles),  9,000,000  feet  (board  measure)  of 
timber  and  390,000  lineal  feet  of  piling. 

On  the  5th  of  August  the  grading  of  the  entire  line 
to  Great  Falls  was  either  finished  or  properly  manned 
for  its  completion  the  first  day  of  September,  and  on 
the  10th  of  August  it  became  necessary  to  remove 
outfits  to  the  east  as  they  completed  their  work,  and 
about  2500  teams  and  their  quota  of  men  were  with 
drawn  between  the  10th  and  20th  of  August,  and 
placed  upon  work  elsewhere. 

The  record  of  track  laid  is  as  follows  :  April  2d  to 
30th,  30  miles;  May,  82  miles;  June,  79.8  miles;  July, 
100.8  miles;  August,  115.4  miles;  September,  102.4 
miles;  up  to  October  15th  to  Great  Falls,  34.6  miles 
— a  total  to  Great  Falls  of  545  miles.  October  16th 
being  Sunday,  no  track  was  laid.  The  track  started 
from  Great  Falls  Monday,  October  17th,  and  reached 
Helena  on  Friday,  November  18th,  a  distance  of  98 
miles,  making  a  grand  total  of  643  miles,  and  an  aver 
age  rate  for  every  working-day  of  three  and  one- 
quarter  miles.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  laying  a 
good  road  was  a  much  more  expeditious  method  of 
reaching  the  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  than  that 
adopted  by  Lewis  and  Clarke. 

Some  of  the  details  of  this  construction  and  track- 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  139 

laying  will  interest  railroad  men.  On  the  16th  of  July 
7  miles  and  1040  feet  of  track  were  laid,  and  on  the 
8th  of  August  8  miles  and  60  feet  were  laid,  in  each 
instance  by  daylight,  and  by  the  regular  gang  of 
track-layers,  without  any  increase  of  their  numbers 
whatever.  The  entire  work  was  done  by  handling 
the  iron  on  low  iron  cars,  and  depositing  it  on  the 
track  from  the  car  at  the  front  end.  The  method 
pursued  was  the  same  as  when  one  mile  of  track  is 
laid  per  day  in  the  ordinary  manner.  The  force  of 
track-layers  was  maintained  at  the  proper  number  for 
the  ordinary  daily  work,  and  was  never  increased  to 
obtain  any  special  result.  The  result  on  the  llth  of 
August  was  probably  decreased  by  a  quarter  to  a  half 
mile  by  the  breaking  of  an  axle  of  an  iron  car  while 
going  to  the  front  with  its  load  at  about  4  P.M.  From 
six  to  eight  iron  cars  were  employed  in  doing  this  day's 
work.  The  number  ordinarily  used  was  four  to  five. 
Sidings  were  graded  at  intervals  of  seven  to  eight 
miles,  and  spur  tracks,  laid  on  the  natural  surface, 
put  in  at  convenient  points,  sixteen  miles  apart,  for 
storage  of  materials  and  supplies  at  or  near  the  front. 
As  the  work  went  on,  the  spur  tracks  in  the  rear  were 
taken  up.  The  construction  train  contained  box  cars 
two  and  three  stories  high,  in  which  workmen  were 
boarded  and  lodged.  Supplies,  as  a  rule,  were  taken 
by  wagon-trains  from  the  spur  tracks  near  the  front 
to  their  destination,  an  average  distance  of  one  hun 
dred  miles  and  an  extreme  one  of  two  hundred  miles. 
Steamboats  were  employed  to  a  limited  extent  on  the 
Missouri  River  in  supplying  such  remote  points  as 
Fort  Benton  and  the  Coal  Banks,  but  not  more  than 
fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  transportation  was  done  by 


140  South  and  West. 

steamers.  A  single  item  illustrating  the  magnitude 
of  the  supply  transportation  is  that  there  were  shipped 
to  Minot  and  forwarded  and  consumed  on  the  work 
590,000  bushels  of  oats. 

It  is  believed  that  the  work  of  grading  500  miles  of 
railroad  in  five  months,  and  the  transportation  into  the 
country  of  everything  consumed,  grass  and  water  ex- 
cepted,  and  of  every  rail,  tie,  bit  of  timber,  pile,  tool, 
machine,  man,  or  team  employed,  and  laying  643  miles 
of  track  in  seven  and  a  half  months,  from  one  end, 
far  exceeds  in  magnitude  and  rapidity  of  execution 
any  similar  undertaking  in  this  or  any  other  country. 
It  reflects  also  the  greatest  credit  on  the  managers  of 
the  railway  transportation  (it  is  not  invidious  to  men 
tion  the  names  of  Mr.  A.  Manvel,  general  manager,  and 
Mr.  J.  M.  Egan,  general  superintendent,  upon  whom 
the  working  details  devolved)  when  it  is  stated  that 
the  delays  for  material  or  supplies  on  the  entire  work 
did  not  retard  it  in  the  aggregate  one  hour.  And 
every  hour  counted  in  this  masterly  campaign. 

The  Western  people  apparently  think  no  more  of 
throwing  down  a  railroad,  if  they  want  to  go  any 
where,  than  a  conservative  Easterner  does  of  taking 
an  unaccustomed  walk  across  country;  and  the  rail 
way  constructors  and  managers  are  a  little  amused  at 
the  Eastern  slowness  and  want  of  facility  in  construc 
tion  and  management.  One  hears  that  the  East  is  an 
tiquated,  and  does  not  know  anything  about  railroad 
building.  Shovels,  carts,  and  wheelbarrows  are  of  a 
past  age  ;  the  big  wheel-scraper  does  the  business.  It 
is  a  common  remark  that  a  contractor  accustomed  to 
Eastern  work  is  not  desired  on  a  Western  job. 

On  Friday  afternoon,  November  18th,  the  news  was 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  141 

flashed  that  the  last  rail  was  laid,  and  at  6  P.M.  a  spe 
cial  train  was  on  the  way  from  St.  Paul  with  a  double 
complement  of  engineers  and  train-men.  For  the  first 
500  miles  there  was  more  or  less  delay  in  avoiding  the 
long  and  frequent  freight  trains,  but  after  that  not 
much  except  the  necessary  stops  for  cleaning  the  en 
gine.  Great  Falls,  about  1100  miles,  was  reached  Sun 
day  noon,  in  thirty-six  hours,  an  average  of  over 
thirty  miles  an  hour.  A  part  of  the  time  the  speed 
was  as  much  as  fifty  miles  an  hour.  The  track  was 
solid,  evenly  graded,  heavily  tied,  well  aligned,  and 
the  cars  ran  over  it  with  no  more  swing  and  bounce 
than  on  an  old  road.  The  only  exception  to  this  is 
the  piece  from  Great  Falls  to  Helena,  which  had  not 
been  surfaced  all  the  way.  It  is  excellent  railway 
construction,  and  it  is  necessary  to  emphasize  this  when 
we  consider  the  rapidity  with  which  it  was  built. 

The  company  has  built  this  road  without  land  grant 
or  subsidy  of  any  kind.  The  Montana  extension, 
from  Minot,  Dakota,  to  Great  Falls,  runs  mostly 
through  Indian  and  military  reservations,  permission 
to  pass  through  being  given  by  special  Act  of  Con 
gress,  and  the  company  buying  200  feet  road-way. 
Little  of  it,  therefore,  is  open  to  settlement. 

These  reservations,  naming  them  in  order  westward, 
are  as  follows  :  The  Fort  Berthold  Indian  reservation, 
Dakota,  the  eastern  boundary  of  which  is  twenty-seven 
miles  west  of  Minot,  has  an  area  of  4550  square  miles 
(about  as  large  as  Connecticut),  or  2,912,000  acres. 
The  Fort  Buford  military  reservation,  lying  in  Dakota 
and  Montana,  has  an  area  of  900  square  miles,  or  576,- 
000  acres.  The  Blackfeet  Indian  reserve  has  an  area 
of  34,000  square  miles  (the  State  of  New  York  has  46,- 


142  -South  and  West. 

000),  or  21,760,000  acres.  The  Fort  Assiniboin  mili 
tary  reserve  has  an  area  of  869.82  square  miles,  or 
556,684  acres. 

It  is  a  liberal  estimate  that  there  are  6000  Indians 
on  the  Blackfeet  and  Fort  Berthold  reservations.  As 
nearly  as  I  could  ascertain,  there  are  not  over  3500 
Indians  (some  of  those  I  saw  were  Crees  on  a  long 
visit  from  Canada)  on  the  Blackfeet  reservation  of 
about  22,000,000  acres.  Some  judges  put  the  number 
as  low  as  2500  to  all  this  territory,  and  estimate  that 
there  was  about  one  Indian  to  ten  square  miles,  or  one 
Indian  family  to  fifty  square  miles.  We  rode  through 
300  miles  of  this  territory  along  the  Milk  River,  near 
ly  every  acre  of  it  good  soil,  with  thick,  abundant 
grass,  splendid  wheat  land. 

I  have  no  space  to  take  up  the  Indian  problem. 
But  the  present  condition  of  affairs  is  neither  fair  to 
white  settlers  nor  just  or  humane  to  the  Indians. 
These  big  reservations  are  of  no  use  to  them,  nor  they 
to  the  reservations.  The  buffaloes  have  disappeared  ; 
they  do  not  live  by  hunting  ;  they  cultivate  very  lit 
tle  ground  ;  they  use  little  even  to  pasture  their  po 
nies.  They  are  fed  and  clothed  by  the  Government, 
and  they  camp  about  the  agencies  in  idleness,  under 
conditions  that  pauperize  them,  destroy  their  man 
hood,  degrade  them  into  dependent,  vicious  lives. 
The  reservations  ought  to  be  sold,  and  the  proceeds 
devoted  to  educating  the  Indians  and  setting  them  up 
in  a  self-sustaining  existence.  They  should  be  al 
lotted  an  abundance  of  good  land,  in  the  region  to 
which  they  are  acclimated,  in  severally,  and  under 
such  restrictions  that  they  cannot  alienate  it  at  least 
for  a  generation  or  two.  As  the  Indian  is  now,  he 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  143 

will  neither  work,  nor  keep  clean,  nor  live  decently. 
Close  to,  the  Indian  is  not  a  romantic  object,  and  cer 
tainly  no  better  now  morally  than  Lewis  and  Clarke 
depicted  him  in  1804.  But  he  is  a  man;  he  has  been 
barbarously  treated;  and  it  is  certainly  not  beyond 
honest  administration  and  Christian  effort  to  better 
his  condition.  And  his  condition  will  not  be  im 
proved  simply  by  keeping  from  settlement  and  civil 
ization  the  magnificent  agricultural  territory  that  is 
reserved  to  him. 

Of  this  almost  unknown  country,  pierced  by  the 
road  west  from  Larimore,  I  can  only  make  the  brief 
est  notes.  I  need  not  say  that  this  open,  unobstructed 
highway  of  arable  land  and  habitable  country,  from 
the  Red  River  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  was  an  as 
tonishment  to  me ;  but  it  is  more  to  the  purpose  to 
say  that  the  fertile  region  was  a  surprise  to  railway 
men  who  are  perfectly  familiar  with  the  West. 

We  had  passed  some  snow  in  the  night,  which  had 
been  very  cold,  but  there  was  very  little  at  Larimore, 
a  considerable  town  ;  there  was  a  high,  raw  wind 
during  the  day,  and  a  temperature  of  about  10° 
above,  which  heavily  frosted  the  car  windows.  At 
Devil's  Lake  (a  body  of  brackish  water  twenty-eight 
miles  long)  is  a  settlement  three  years  old,  and  from 
this  and  two  insignificant  stations  beyond  were  shipped, 
in  1887,  1,500,000  bushels  of  wheat.  The  country  be 
yond  is  slightly  rolling,  fine  land,  has  much  wheat, 
little  houses  scattered  about,  some  stock,  very  promis 
ing  altogether.  Minot,  where  we  crossed  the  Mouse 
River  the  second  time,  is  a  village  of  TOO  people,  with 
several  brick  houses  and  plenty  of  saloons.  Thence 
we  ran  up  to  a  plateau  some  three  hundred  feet  high- 


144  South  and  West. 

er  than  the  Mouse  River  Valley,  and  found  a  land 
more  broken,  and  interspersed  with  rocky  land  and 
bowlders — the  only  touch  of  "bad  lands"  I  recall  on 
the  route.  We  crossed  several  small  streams,  White 
Earth,  Sandy,  Little  Muddy,  and  Muddy,  and  before 
reaching  Williston  descended  into  the  valley  of  the 
Missouri,  reached  Fort  Buford,  where  the  Yellowstone 
comes  in,  entered  what  is  called  Paradise  Valley,  and 
continued  parallel  with  the  Missouri  as  far  as  the 
mouth  of  Milk  River.  Before  reaching  this  we 
crossed  the  Big  Muddy  and  the  Poplar  rivers,  both 
rising  in  Canada.  At  Poplar  Station  is  a  large  Ind 
ian  agency,  and  hundreds  of  Teton  Sioux  Indians  (I 
was  told  1800)  camped  there  in  their  conical  tepees. 
I  climbed  the  plateau  above  the  station  where  the  Ind 
ians  bury  their  dead,  wrapping  the  bodies  in  blankets 
and  buffalo-robes,  and  suspending  them  aloft  on  cross 
bars  supported  by  stakes,  to  keep  them  from  the 
wolves.  Beyond  Assiniboin  I  saw  a  platform  in  a 
cottonwood-tree  on  which  reposed  the  remains  of  a 
chief  and  his  family.  This  country  is  all  good,  so  far 
as  I  could  see  and  learn. 

It  gave  me  a  sense  of  geographical  deficiency  in 
my  education  to  travel  three  hundred  miles  on  a  river 
I  had  never  heard  of  before.  But  it  happened  on  the 
Milk  River,  a  considerable  but  not  navigable  stream, 
although  some  six  hundred  miles  long.  The  broad 
Milk  River  Valley  is  in  itself  an  empire  of  excellent 
land,  ready  for  the  plough  and  the  wheat -sower. 
Judging  by  the  grass  (which  cures  into  the  most 
nutritious  feed  as  it  stands),  there  had  been  no  lack  of 
rain  during  the  summer ;  but  if  there  is  lack  of  water, 
all  the  land  can  be  irrigated  by  the  Milk  River,  and 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  14:5 

it  may  also  be  said  of  the  country  beyond  to  Great 
Falls  that  frequent  streams  make  irrigation  easy,  if 
there  is  scant  rainfall.  I  should  say  that  this  would 
be  the  only  question  about  water. 

Leaving  the  Milk  River  Valley,  we  began  to  curve 
southward,  passing  Fort  Assiniboin  on  our  right.  In 
this  region  and  beyond  at  Fort  Benton  great  herds  of 
cattle  are  grazed  by  Government  contractors,  who 
supply  the  posts  with  beef.  At  the  Big  Sandy  Sta 
tion  they  were  shipping  cattle  eastward.  We  crossed 
the  Marias  River  (originally  named  Maria's  River),  a 
stream  that  had  the  respectful  attention  of  Lewis  and 
Clarke,  and  the  Teton,  a  wilfully  erratic  watercourse 
in  a  narrow  valley,  which  caused  the  railway  con 
structors  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  We  looked  down, 
in  passing,  on  Fort  Benton,  nestled  in  a  bend  of  the 
Missouri ;  a  smart  town,  with  a  daily  newspaper,  an 
old  trading  station.  Shortly  after  leaving  Assiniboin 
we  saw  on  our  left  the  Bear  Paw  Mountains  and  the 
noble  Highwood  Mountains,  fine  peaks,  snow-dusted, 
about  thirty  miles  from  us,  and  adjoining  them  the 
Belt  Mountains.  Between  them  is  a  shapely  little 
pyramid  called  the  Wolf  Butte.  Far  to  our  right 
were  the  Sweet  Grass  Hills,  on  the  Canada  line,  where 
gold-miners  are  at  work.  I  have  noted  of  all  this 
country  that  it  is  agriculturally  fine.  After  Fort  Ben- 
ton  we  had  glimpses  of  the  Rockies,  off  to  the  right 
(we  had  seen  before  the  Little  Rockies  in  the  south, 
towards  Yellowstone  Park) ;  then  the  Bird-tail  Divide 
came  in  sight,  and  the  mathematically  Square  Butte, 
sometimes  called  Fort  Montana. 

At  noon,  ISTovember  20th,  we  reached  Great  Falls, 
where  the  Sun  River,  coming  in  from  the  west,  joins 
10 


146  South  and  West. 

the  Missouri.  The  railway  crosses  the  Sun  River, 
and  runs  on  up  the  left  bank  of  the  Missouri.  Great 
Falls,  which  lies  in  a  bend  of  the  Missouri  on  the  east 
side,  was  not  then,  but  soon  will  be,  connected  with 
the  line  by  a  railway  bridge.  I  wish  I  could  convey 
to  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  view  as 
we  came  out  upon  the  Sun  River  Valley,  or  the  feel 
ing  of  exhilaration  and  elevation  we  experienced.  I 
had  come  to  no  place  before  that  did  not  seem  remote, 
far  from  home,  lonesome.  Here  the  aspect  was  friend 
ly,  livable,  almost  home-like.  We  seemed  to  have 
come  out,  after  a  long  journey,  to  a  place  where  one 
might  be  content  to  stay  for  some  time — to  a  far  but 
fair  country,  on  top  of  the  world,  as  it  were.  Not 
that  the  elevation  is  great — only  about  3000  feet 
above  the  sea — nor  the  horizon  illimitable,  as  on  the 
great  plains  ;  its  spaciousness  is  brought  within  hu 
man  sympathy  by  guardian  hills  and  distant  mountain 
ranges. 

A  more  sweet,  smiling  picture  than  the  Sun  River 
Valley  the  traveller  may  go  far  to  sec.  With  an  av 
erage  breadth  of  not  over  two  and  a  half  to  five  miles, 
level,  richly  grassed,  flanked  by  elevations  that  swell 
up  to  plateaus,  through  the  valley  the  Sun  River, 
clear,  full  to  the  grassy  banks,  comes  down  like  a  rib 
bon  of  silver,  perhaps  800  feet  broad  before  its  junc 
tion.  Across  the  far  end  of  it,  seventy-five  miles  dis 
tant,  but  seemingly  not  more  than  twenty,  run  the 
silver  serrated  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  snow- 
clad  and  sparkling  in  the  sun.  At  distances  of  twelve 
and  fifty  miles  up  the  valley  have  been  for  years  pros 
perous  settlements,  with  school-houses  and  churches, 
hitherto  cut  off  from  the  world. 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  147 

The  whole  rolling,  arable,  though  treeless  country 
in  view  is  beautiful,  and  the  far  prospects  are  magnifi 
cent.  I  suppose  that  something  of  the  homelikeness  of 
the  region  is  due  to  the  presence  of  the  great  Missouri 
River  (a  connection  with  the  world  we  know),  which 
is  here  a  rapid,  clear  stream,  in  permanent  rock-laid 
banks.  At  the  town  a  dam  has  been  thrown  across 
it,  and  the  width  above  the  dam,  where  we  crossed  it, 
is  about  1800  feet.  The  day  was  fair  and  not  cold, 
but  a  gale  of  wind  from  the  south-west  blew  with  such 
violence  that  the  ferry-boat  was  unmanageable,  and 
we  went  over  in  little  skiffs,  much  tossed  about  by 
the  white-capped  waves. 

In  June,  1886,  there  was  not  a  house  within  twelve 
miles  of  this  place.  The  country  is  now  taken  up 
and  dotted  with  claim  shanties,  and  Great  Falls  is  a 
town  of  over  1000  inhabitants,  regularly  laid  out,  with 
streets  indeed  extending  far  on  to  the  prairie,  a  hand 
some  and  commodious  hotel,  several  brick  buildings, 
and  new  houses  going  up  in  all  directions.  Central 
lots,  fifty  feet  by  two  hundred  and  fifty,  are  said  to 
sell  for  $5000,  and  I  was  offered  a  corner  lot  on  Tenth 
Street,  away  out  on  the  prairie,  for  $1500,  including 
the  corner  stake. 

It  is  difficult  to  write  of  this  country  without  seem 
ing  exaggeration,  and  the  habitual  frontier  boastful- 
ness  makes  the  acquisition  of  bottom  facts  difficult. 
It  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  it  is  a  good  grazing 
country,  and  the  experimental  fields  of  wheat  near  the 
town  show  that  it  is  equally  well  adapted  to  wheat- 
raising.  The  vegetables  grown  there  are  enormous 
and  solid,  especially  potatoes  and  turnips;  I  have  the 
outline  of  a  turnip  which  measured  seventeen  inches 


148  South  and  West. 

across,  seven  inches  deep,  and  weighed  twenty-four 
pounds.  The  region  is  underlaid  by  bituminous  coal, 
good  coking  quality,  and  extensive  mines  are  opening 
in  the  neighborhood.  I  have  no  doubt  from  what  I 
saw  and  heard  that  iron  of  good  quality  (hematite)  is 
abundant.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the  Montana 
mountains  are  full  of  other  minerals.  The  present 
advantage  of  Great  Falls  is  in  the  possession  of  un 
limited  water-power  in  the  Missouri  River. 

As  to  rainfall  and  climate?  The  grass  shows  no 
lack  of  rain,  and  the  wheat  was  raised  in  1887  without 
irrigation.  But  irrigation  from  the  Missouri  and 
Sun  rivers  is  easy,  if  needed.  The  thermometer 
shows  a  more  temperate  and  less  rigorous  climate 
than  Minnesota  and  north  Dakota.  Unless  everybody 
fibs,  the  winters  are  less  severe,  and  stock  ranges  and 
fattens  all  winter.  Less  snow  falls  here  than  farther 
east  and  south,  and  that  which  falls  does  not  usually 
remain  long.  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  the  mercury 
occasionally  goes  very  low,  but  that  every  few  days  a 
warm  Pacific  wind  from  the  south-west,  the  "  Chinook," 
blows  a  gale,  which  instantly  raises  the  temperature, 
and  sweeps  off  the  snow  in  twenty-four  hours.  I  was 
told  that  ice  rarely  gets  more  than  ten  inches  thick, 
and  that  ploughing  can  be  done  as  late  as  the  20th  of 
December,  and  recommenced  from  the  1st  to  the  15th 
of  March.  I  did  not  stay  long  enough  to  verify  these 
statements.  There  had  been  a  slight  fall  of  snow  in 
October,  which  speedily  disappeared.  November  20th 
was  pleasant,  with  a  strong  Chinook  wind.  November 
21st  there  was  a  driving  snow-storm. 

The  region  is  attractive  to  the  sight-seer.  I  can 
speak  of  only  two  things,  the  Springs  and  the  Falls. 


A  Far  and  Fair  Country.  149 

There  is  a  series  of  rapids  and  falls,  for  twelve  miles 
below  the  town  ;  and  the  river  drops  down  rapidly 
into  a  canon  which  is  in  some  places  nearly  200  feet 
deep.  The  first  fall  is  twenty-six  feet  high.  The 
most  beautiful  is  the  Rainbow  Fall,  six  miles  from 
town.  This  cataract,  in  a  wild,  deep  gorge,  has  a 
width  of  1400  feet,  nearly  as  straight  across  as  an  ar 
tificial  dam,  with  a  perpendicular  plunge  of  fifty  feet. 
What  makes  it  impressive  is  the  immense  volume  of 
water.  Dashed  upon  the  rocks  below,  it  sends  up 
clouds  of  spray,  which  the  sun  tinges  with  prismatic 
colors  the  whole  breadth  of  the  magnificent  fall. 
Standing  half-way  down  the  precipice  another  consid 
erable  and  regular  fall  is  seen  above,  while  below  are 
rapids  and  falls  again  at  the  bend,  and  beyond,  great 
reaches  of  tumultuous  river  in  the  canon.  It  is  alto 
gether  a  wild  and  splendid  spectacle.  Six  miles  be 
low,  the  river  takes  a  continuous  though  not  perpen 
dicular  plunge  of  ninety-six  feet. 

One  of  the  most  exquisitely  beautiful  natural  ob 
jects  I  know  is  the  Spring,  a  mile  above  Rainbow  Fall. 
Out  of  a  rocky  ledge,  sloping  up  some  ten  feet  above 
the  river,  burst  several  springs  of  absolutely  crystal 
water,  powerfully  bubbling  up  like  small  geysers,  and 
together  forming  instantly  a  splendid  stream,  which 
falls  into  the  Missouri.  So  perfectly  transparent  is 
the  water  that  the  springs  seem  to  have  a  depth  of 
only  fifteen  inches  ;  they  are  fifteen  feet  deep.  In 
them  grow  flat -leaved  plants  of  vivid  green,  shades 
from  lightest  to  deepest  emerald,  and  when  the  sun 
light  strikes  into  their  depths  the  effect  is  exquisitely 
beautiful.  Mingled  with  the  emerald  are  maroon  col 
ors  that  heighten  the  effect.  The  vigor  of  the  out- 


150  South  and  West. 

burst,  the  volume  of  water,  the  transparency,  the  play 
of  sunlight  on  the  lovely  colors,  give  one  a  positively 
new  sensation. 

I  have  left  no  room  to  speak  of  the  road  of  ninety- 
eight  miles  through  the  canon  of  the  Missouri  and  the 
canon  of  the  Prickly-Pear  to  Helena — about  1400  feet 
higher  than  Great  Falls.  It  is  a  marvellously  pict 
uresque  road,  following  the  mighty  river,  winding 
through  crags  and  precipices  of  trap-rock  set  on  end 
in  fantastic  array,  and  wild  mountain  scenery.  On 
the  route  are  many  pleasant  places,  openings  of  fine 
valleys,  thriving  ranches,  considerable  stock  and  oats, 
much  land  ploughed  and  cultivated.  The  valley  broad 
ens  out  before  we  reach  Helena  and  enter  Last  Chance 
Gulch,  now  the  main  street  of  the  city,  out  of  which 
millions  of  gold  have  been  taken. 

At  Helena  we  reach  familiar  ground.  The  21st 
was  a  jubilee  day  for  the  city  and  the  whole  Terri 
tory.  Cannon,  bells,  whistles,  welcomed  the  train  and 
the  man,  and  fifteen  thousand  people  hurrahed;  the 
town  was  gayly  decorated;  there  was  a  long  proces 
sion,  speeches  and  music  in  the  Opera-house  in  the  af 
ternoon,  and  fireworks,  illumination,  and  banquet  in 
the  evening.  The  reason  of  the  boundless  enthusiasm 
of  Helena  was  in  the  fact  that  the  day  gave  it  a  new 
competing  line  to  the  East,  and  opened  up  the  coal, 
iron,  and  wheat  fields  of  north  Montana. 


VIII. 

ECONOMIC   AND    SOCIAL    TOPICS.     MINNE 
SOTA  AND   "WISCONSIN. 

A  VISITOR  at  a  club  in  Chicago  was  pointed  out  a 
table  at  which  usually  lunched  a  hundred  and  fifty 
millions  of  dollars !  This  impressive  statement  was 
as  significant  in  its  way  as  the  list  of  the  men,  in  the 
days  of  Emerson,  Agassiz,  and  Longfellow,  who  dined 
together  as  the  Saturday  Club  in  Boston.  We  can 
not,  however,  generalize  from  this  that  the  only  thing 
considered  in  the  North-west  is  money,  and  that  the 
only  thing  held  in  esteem  in  Boston  is  intellect. 

The  chief  concerns  in  the  North-west  are  material, 
and  the  making  of  money,  sometimes  termed  the  "de 
velopment  of  resources,"  is  of  the  first  importance. 
In  Minneapolis  and  St.  Paul,  social  position  is  more 
determined  by  money  than  it  is  in  most  Eastern  cities, 
and  this  makes  social  life  more  democratic,  so  far  as 
traditions  and  family  are  concerned.  I  desire  not  to 
overstate  this,  for  money  is  potent  everywhere;  but  I 
should  say  that  a  person  not  devoted  to  business,  or 
not  succeeding  in  it,  but  interested  rather  in  intel 
lectual  pursuits — study,  research,  art  (not  decorative), 
education,  and  the  like — would  find  less  sympathy 
there  than  in  Eastern  cities  of  the  same  size  and  less 
consideration.  Indeed,  I  was  told,  more  than  once, 
that  the  spirit  of  plutocracy  is  so  strong  in  these  cities 


152  South  and  West. 

as  to  make  a  very  disagreeable  atmosphere  for  people 
who  value  the  higher  tilings  in  life  more  than  money 
and  what  money  only  will  procure,  and  display  which 
is  always  more  or  less  vulgar.  But  it  is  necessary  to 
get  closer  to  the  facts  than  this  statement. 

The  materialistic  spirit  is  very  strong  in  the  West; 
of  necessity  it  is,  in  the  struggle  for  existence  and  po 
sition  going  on  there,  and  in  the  unprecedented  oppor 
tunities  for  making  fortunes.  And  hence  arises  a  pre 
vailing  notion  that  any  education  is  of  little  value  that 
does  not  bear  directly  upon  material  success.  I  should 
say  that  the  professions,  including  divinity  and  the 
work  of  the  scholar  and  the  man  of  letters,  do  not 
have  the  weight  there  that  they  do  in  some  other 
places.  The  professional  man,  either  in  the  college 
or  the  pulpit,  is  expected  to  look  alive  and  keep  up 
with  the  procession.  Tradition  is  weak;  it  is  no  ob 
jection  to  a  thing  that  it  is  new,  and  in  the  general 
strain  "  sensations  "  are  welcome.  The  general  motto 
is,  "Be  alive  ;  be  practical."  Naturally,  also,  wealth 
recently  come  by  desires  to  assert  itself  a  little  in  dis 
play,  in  ostentatious  houses,  luxurious  living,  dress, 
jewellery,  even  to  the  frank  delight  in  the  diamond 
ghirt-stud. 

But  we  are  writing  of  Americans,  and  the  Ameri 
cans  are  the  quickest  people  in  the  world  to  adapt 
themselves  to  new  situations.  The  Western  people 
travel  much,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  they  do  not  re 
quire  a  very  long  experience  to  know  what  is  in  bad 
taste.  They  are  as  quick  as  anybody — I  believe  they 
gave  us  the  phrase — to  "  catch  on  "  to  quietness  and  a 
low  tone.  Indeed,  I  don't  know  but  they  would  boast 
that  if  it  is  a  question  of  subdued  style,  they  can  beat 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  153 

the  world.  The  revolution  which  has  gone  all  over 
the  country  since  the  Exposition  of  1876  in  house-fur 
nishing  and  decoration  is  quite  as  apparent  in  the  West 
as  in  the  East.  The  West  has  not  suffered  more  than 
the  East  from  eccentricities  of  architecture  in  the  past 
twenty  years.  Violations  of  good  taste  are  pretty  well 
distributed,  but  of  new  houses  the  proportion  of  hand 
some,  solid,  good  structures  is  as  large  in  the  West  as 
in  the  East,  and  in  the  cities  I  think  the  West  has  the 
advantage  in  variety.  It  must  be  frankly  said  that  if 
the  Easterner  is  surprised  at  the  size,  cost,  and  palatial 
character  of  many  of  their  residences,  he  is  not  less 
surprised  by  the  refinement  and  good  taste  of  their  in 
teriors.  There  are  cases  where  money  is  too  evident, 
where  the  splendor  has  been  ordered,  but  there  are 
plenty  of  other  cases  where  individual  taste  is  appar 
ent,  and  love  of  harmony  and  beauty.  What  I  am 
trying  to  say  is  that  the  East  undervalues  the  real  re 
finement  of  living  going  along  with  the  admitted  cost 
and  luxury  in  the  West.  The  art  of  dining  is  said  to 
be  a  test  of  civilization — on  a  certain  plane.  Well, 
dining,  in  good  houses  (I  believe  that  is  the  phrase), 
is  much  the  same  East  and  West  as  to  appointments, 
service,  cuisine,  and  talk,  with  a  trifle  more  freedom 
and  sense  of  newness  in  the  West.  No  doubt  there  is 
a  difference  in  tone,  appreciable  but  not  easy  to  define. 
It  relates  less  to  the  things  than  the  way  the  things 
are  considered.  Where  a  family  has  had  "things"  for 
two  or  three  generations  they  are  less  an  object  than 
an  unregarded  matter  of  course  ;  where  things  and  a 
manner  of  living  are  newly  acquired,  they  have  more 
importance  in  themselves.  An  old  community,  if  it  is 
really  civilized  (I  mean  a  state  in  which  intellectual 


154  South  and  West. 

concerns  are  paramount),  values  less  and  less,  as  an 
end,  merely  material  refinement.  The  tendency  all 
over  the  United  States  is  for  wealth  to  run  into  vul 
garity. 

In  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis  one  thing  notable  is 
the  cordial  hospitality,  another  is  the  public  spirit, 
and  another  is  the  intense  devotion  to  business,  the 
forecast  and  alertness  in  new  enterprises.  Where 
society  is  fluid  and  on  the  move,  it  seems  compara 
tively  easy  to  interest  the  citizens  in  any  scheme  for 
the  public  good.  The  public  spirit  of  those  cities  is 
admirable.  One  notices  also  an  uncommon  power  of 
organization,  of  devices  for  saving  time.  An  illustra 
tion  of  this  is  the  immense  railway  transfer  ground 
here.  Midway  between  the  cities  is  a  mile  square  of 
land  where  all  the  great  railway  lines  meet,  and  by 
means  of  communicating  tracks  easily  and  cheaply 
exchange  freight  cars,  immensely  increasing  the  facil 
ity  and  lessening  the  cost  of  transportation.  Anoth 
er  illustration  of  system  is  the  State  office  of  Public 
Examiner,  an  office  peculiar  to  Minnesota,  an  office  su 
pervising  banks,  public  institutions,  and  county  treas 
uries,  by  means  of  which  a  uniform  system  of  account 
ing  is  enforced  for  all  public  funds,  and  safety  is 
insured. 

There  is  a  large  furniture  and  furnishing  store  in 
Minneapolis,  well  sustained  by  the  public,  which  gives 
one  a  new  idea  of  the  taste  of  the  North-west.  A 
community  that  buys  furniture  so  elegant  and  chaste 
in  design,  and  stuffs  and  decorations  so  aesthetically 
good,  as  this  shop  offers  it,  is  certainly  not  deficient 
either  in  material  refinement  or  the  means  to  gratify 
the  love  of  it. 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  155 

What  is  there  besides  this  tremendous  energy,  very 
material  prosperity,  and  undeniable  refinement  in  liv 
ing?  I  do  not  know  that  the  excellently  managed 
public-school  system  offers  anything  peculiar  for  com 
ment.  But  the  High-school  in  St.  Paul  is  worth  a 
visit.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,  the  method  of  teach 
ing  is  admirable,  and  produces  good  results.  It  has 
no  rules,  nor  any  espionage.  Scholars  are  put  upon 
their  honor.  One  object  of  education  being  charac 
ter,  it  is  well  to  have  good  behavior  consist,  not  in 
conformity  to  artificial  laws  existing  only  in  school, 
but  to  principles  of  good  conduct  that  should  prevail 
everywhere.  There  is  system  here,  but  the  conduct 
expected  is  that  of  well-bred  boys  and  girls  anywhere. 
The  plan  works  well,  and  there  are  very  few  cases  of 
discipline.  A  manual  training  school  is  attached — a 
notion  growing  in  favor  in  the  West,  and  practised  in 
a  scientific  and  truly  educational  spirit.  Attendance 
is  not  compulsory,  but  a  considerable  proportion  of 
the  pupils,  boys  and  girls,  spend  a  certain  number  of 
hours  each  week  in  the  workshops,  learning  the  use  of 
tools,  and  making  simple  objects  to  an  accurate  scale 
from  drawings  on  the  blackboard.  The  design  is 
not  at  all  to  teach  a  trade.  The  object  is  strictly 
educational,  not  simply  to  give  manual  facility  and 
knowledge  in  the  use  of  tools,  but  to  teach  accuracy, 
the  mental  training  that  there  is  in  working  out  a  def 
inite,  specific  purpose. 

The  State  University  is  still  in  a  formative  condi 
tion,  and  has  attached  to  it  a  preparatory  school.  Its 
first  class  graduated  only  in  1872.  It  sends  out  on 
an  average  about  twenty  graduates  a  year  in  the  va 
rious  departments,  science,  literature,  mechanic  arts, 


156  South  and  West. 

and  agriculture.  The  bane  of  a  State  university  is 
politics,  and  in  the  West  the  hand  of  the  Granger 
is  on  the  college,  endeavoring  to  make  it  "  practical." 
Probably  this  modern  idea  of  education  will  have  to 
run  its  course,  and  so  long  as  it  is  running  its  course 
the  Eastern  colleges  which  adhere  to  the  idea  of  in 
tellectual  discipline  will  attract  the  young  men  who 
value  a  liberal  rather  than  a  material  education.  The 
State  University  of  Minnesota  is  thriving  in  the  en 
largement  of  its  facilities.  About  one-third  of  its 
scholars  are  women,  but  I  notice  that  in  the  last  cat 
alogue,  in  the  Senior  Class  of  twenty-six  there  is  only 
one  woman.  There  are  two  independent  institutions 
also  that  should  be  mentioned,  both  within  the  limits 
of  St.  Paul,  the  Hamline  University,  under  Methodist 
auspices,  and  the  McAllister  College,  under  Presby 
terian.  I  did  not  visit  the  former,  but  the  latter,  at 
least,  though  just  beginning,  has  the  idea  of  a  clas 
sical  education  foremost,  and  does  not  adopt  co-educa 
tion.  Its  library  is  well  begun  by  the  gift  of  a  mis 
cellaneous  collection,  containing  many  rare  and  old 
books,  by  the  Rev.  E.  D.  Neill,  the  well-known  anti 
quarian,  who  has  done  so  much  to  illuminate  the  colo 
nial  history  of  Virginia  and  Maryland.  In  the  State 
Historical  Society,  which  has  rooms  in  the  Capitol  in 
St.  Paul,  a  vigorous  and  well-managed  society,  is  a 
valuable  collection  of  books  illustrating  the  history 
of  the  North-west.  The  visitor  will  notice  in  St.  Paul 
quite  as  much  taste  for  reading  among  business  men 
as  exists  elsewhere,  a  growing  fancy  for  rare  books, 
and  find  some  private  collections  of  interest.  Though 
music  and  art  cannot  be  said  to  be  generally  culti 
vated,  there  are  in  private  circles  musical  enthusiasm 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  157 

and  musical  ability,  and  many  of  the  best  examples 
of  modern  painting  are  to  be  found  in  private  houses. 
Indeed,  there  is  one  gallery  in  which  is  a  collection 
of  pictures  by  foreign  artists  that  would  be  notable 
in  any  city.  These  things  are  mentioned  as  indica 
tions  of  a  liberalizing  use  of  wealth. 

Wisconsin  is  not  only  one  of  the  most  progressive, 
but  one  of  the  most  enlightened,  States  in  the  Union. 
Physically  it  is  an  agreeable  and  beautiful  State,  agri 
culturally  it  is  rich,  in  the  southern  and  central  por 
tions  at  least,  and  it  is  overlaid  with  a  perfect  net 
work  of  railways.  All  this  is  well  known.  I  wish  to 
speak  of  certain  other  things  which  give  it  distinc 
tion.  I  mean  the  prevailing  spirit  in  education  and 
in  social  -  economic  problems.  In  some  respects  it 
leads  all  the  other  States. 

There  seem  to  be  two  elements  in  the  State  con 
tending  for  the  mastery,  one  the  New  England,  but 
emancipated  from  tradition,  the  other  the  foreign, 
with  ideas  of  liberty  not  of  New  England  origin. 
Neither  is  afraid  of  new  ideas  nor  of  trying  social 
experiments.  Co-education  seems  to  be  everywhere 
accepted  without  question,  as  if  it  were  already  de 
monstrated  that  the  mingling  of  the  sexes  in  the 
higher  education  will  produce  the  sort  of  men  and 
women  most  desirable  in  the  highest  civilization. 
The  success  of  women  in  the  higher  schools,  the  ca 
pacity  shown  by  women  in  the  management  of  pub 
lic  institutions  and  in  reforms  and  charities,  have 
perhaps  something  to  do  with  the  favor  to  woman 
suffrage.  It  may  be  that,  if  women  vote  there  in 
general  elections  as  well  as  school  matters,  on  the 


158  South  and  West. 

ground  that  every  public  office  "  relates  to  educa 
tion,"  Prohibition  will  be  agitated  as  it  is  in  most 
other  States,  but  at  present  the  lager-bier  interest  is 
too  strong  to  give  Prohibition  much  chance.  The 
capital  invested  in  the  manufacture  of  beer  makes 
this  interest  a  political  element  of  great  importance. 

Milwaukee  and  Madison  may  be  taken  to  represent 
fairly  the  civilization  of  Wisconsin.  Milwaukee,  hav 
ing  a  population  of  about  175,000,  is  a  beautiful  city, 
with  some  characteristics  peculiar  to  itself,  having  the 
settled  air  of  being  much  older  than  it  is,  a  place  ac 
customed  to  money  and  considerable  elegance  of  liv 
ing.  The  situation  on  the  lake  is  fine,  the  high  curv 
ing  bluffs  offering  most  attractive  sites  for  residences, 
and  the  rolling  country  about  having  a  quiet  beauty. 
Grand  Avenue,  an  extension  of  the  main  business  thor 
oughfare  of  the  city,  runs  out  into  the  country  some 
two  miles,  broad,  with  a  solid  road,  a  stately  avenue, 
lined  with  fine  dwellings,  many  of  them  palaces  in  size 
and  elegant  in  design.  Fashion  seems  to  hesitate  be 
tween  the  east  side  and  the  west  side,  but  the  east  or 
lake  side  seems  to  have  the  advantage  in  situation, 
certainly  in  views,  and  contains  a  greater  proportion 
of  the  American  population  than  the  other.  Indeed, 
it  is  not  easy  to  recall  a  quarter  of  any  busy  city 
which  combines  more  comfort,  evidences  of  wealth 
and  taste  and  refinement,  and  a  certain  domestic  char 
acter,  than  this  portion  of  the  town  on  the  bluffs,  Pros 
pect  Avenue  and  the  adjacent  streets.  With  the  many 
costly  and  elegant  houses  there  is  here  and  there  one 
rather  fantastic,  but  the  whole  effect  is  pleasing,  and 
the  traveller  feels  no  hesitation  in  deciding  that  this 
would  be  an  agreeable  place  to  live.  From  the  ave- 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  159 

nue  the  lake  prospect  is  wonderfully  attractive — the 
beauty  of  Lake  Michigan  in  changing  color  and  varie 
ty  of  lights  in  sun  and  storm  cannot  be  too  much  in 
sisted  on — and  this  is  especially  true  of  the  noble  Es 
planade,  where  stands  the  bronze  statue  (a  gift  of  two 
citizens)  of  Solomon  Juneau,  the  first  settler  of  Mil 
waukee  in  1818.  It  is  a  very  satisfactory  figure,  and 
placed  where  it  is,  it  gives  a  sort  of  foreign  distinc 
tion  to  the  open  place  which  the  city  has  wisely  left 
for  public  use.  In  this  part  of  the  town  is  the  house 
of  the  Milwaukee  Club,  a  good  building,  one  of  the 
most  tasteful  internally,  and  one  of  the  best  appointed, 
best  arranged,  and  comfortable  club-houses  in  the  coun 
try.  Near  this  is  the  new  Art  Museum  (also  the  gift 
of  a  private  citizen),  a  building  greatly  to  be  com 
mended  for  its  excellent  proportions,  simplicity,  and 
chasteness  of  style,  and  adaptability  to  its  purpose. 
It  is  a  style  that  will  last,  to  please  the  eye,  and  be 
more  and  more  appreciated  as  the  taste  of  the  com 
munity  becomes  more  and  more  refined. 

In  this  quarter  are  many  of  the  churches,  of  the 
average  sort,  but  none  calling  for  special  mention 
except  St.  Paul's,  which  is  noble  in  proportions  and 
rich  in  color,  and  contains  several  notable  windows 
of  stained  glass,  one  of  them  occupying  the  entire 
end  of  one  transept,  the  largest,  I  believe,  in  the 
country.  It  is  a  copy  of  Dore's  painting  of  Christ 
on  the  way  to  the  Crucifixion,  an  illuminated  street 
scene,  with  superb  architecture  of  marble  and  por 
phyry,  and  crowded  with  hundreds  of  figures  in  col 
ors  of  Oriental  splendor.  The  colors  are  rich  and 
harmonious,  but  it  is  very  brilliant,  flashing  in  the 
sunlight  with  magnificent  effect,  and  I  am  not  sure 


160  South  and  West. 

but  it  would  attract  the  humble  sinners  of  Milwaukee 
from  a  contemplation  of  their  little  faults  which  they 
go  to  church  to  confess. 

The  city  does  not  neglect  education,  as  the  many 
thriving  public  schools  testify.  It  has  a  public  circu 
lating  library  of  42,000  volumes,  sustained  at  an  ex 
pense  of  822,000  a  year  by  a  tax;  is  free,  and  well  pat 
ronized.  There  are  good  private  collections  of  books 
also,  one  that  I  saw  large  and  worthy  to  be  called  a 
library,  especially  strong  in  classic  English  literature. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  industry  of  the  city,  certainly 
the  most  conspicuous,  is  brewing.  I  do  not  say  that 
the  city  is  in  the  hands  of  the  brewers,  but  with  their 
vast  establishments  they  wield  great  power.  One  of 
them,  about  the  largest  in  the  country,  and  said  to 
equal  in  its  capacity  any  in  Europe,  has  in  one  group 
seven  enormous  buildings,  and  is  impressive  by  its  ex 
tent  and  orderly  management,  as  well  as  by  the  rivers 
of  amber  fluid  which  it  pours  out  for  this  thirsty  coun 
try.  Milwaukee,  with  its  large  German  element — two- 
thirds  of  the  population,  most  of  whom  are  freethink 
ers — has  no  Sunday  except  in  a  holiday  sense ;  the 
theatres  are  all  open,  and  the  pleasure-gardens,  which 
are  extensive,  are  crowded  with  merrymakers  in  the 
season.  It  is,  in  short,  the  Continental  fashion,  and 
while  the  churches  and  church-goers  are  like  churches 
and  church-goers  everywhere,  there  is  an  air  of  gen 
eral  Continental  freedom. 

The  general  impression  of  Milwaukee  is  that  it  is  a 
city  of  much  wealth  and  a  great  deal  of  comfort,  with 
a  settled,  almost  conservative  feeling,  like  an  Eastern 
city,  and  charming,  cultivated  social  life,  with  the  grace 
and  beauty  that  are  common  in  American  society  any- 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  161 

where.  I  think  the  men  generally  would  be  called 
well-looking,  robust,  of  the  quiet,  assured  manner  of 
an  old  community.  The  women  seen  on  the  street 
and  in  the  shops  are  of  good  physique  and  good  col 
or  and  average  good  looks,  without  anything  startling 
in  the  way  of  beauty  or  elegance.  I  speak  of  the  gen 
eral  aspect  of  the  town,  and  I  mention  the  well-to-do 
physical  condition  because  it  contradicts  the  English 
prophecy  of  a  physical  decadence  in  the  West,  owing 
to  the  stimulating  climate  and  the  restless  pursuit  of 
wealth.  On  the  train  to  Madison  (the  line  runs  through 
a  beautiful  country)  one  might  have  fancied  that  he 
was  on  a  local  New  England  train:  the  same  plain, 
good  sort  of  people,  and  in  abundance  the  well-look 
ing,  domestic  sort  of  young  women. 

Madison  is  a  great  contrast  to  Milwaukee.  Although 
it  is  the  political  and  educational  centre,  has  the  Capi 
tol  and  the  State  University,  and  a  population  of  about 
15,000,  it  is  like  a  large  village,  with  the  village  habits 
and  friendliness.  On  elevated,  hilly  ground,  between 
two  charming  lakes,  it  has  an  almost  unrivalled  situa 
tion,  and  is  likely  to  possess,  in  the  progress  of  years 
and  the  accumulation  of  wealth,  the  picturesqueness 
and  beauty  that  travellers  ascribe  to  Stockholm.  With 
the  hills  of  the  town,  the  gracefully  curving  shores  of 
the  lakes  and  their  pointed  bays,  the  gentle  elevations 
beyond  the  lakes,  and  the  capacity  of  these  two  bodies 
of  water  as  pleasure  resorts,  with  elegant  music  pavil 
ions  and  fleets  of  boats  for  the  sail  and  the  oar — why 
do  we  not  take  a  hint  from  the  painted  Venetian  sail? 
— there  is  no  limit  to  what  may  be  expected  in  the  way 
of  refined  beauty  of  Madison  in  the  summer,  if  it  re 
mains  a  city  of  education  and  of  laws,  and  does  not 
11 


162  South  and  West. 

get  up  a  "  boom,"  and  set  up  factories,  and  blacken 
all  the  landscape  with  coal  smoke ! 

The  centre  of  the  town  is  a  big  square,  pleasantly 
tree-planted,  so  large  that  the  facing  rows  of  shops 
and  houses  have  a  remote  and  dwarfed  appearance, 
and  in  the  middle  of  it  is  the  great  pillared  State- 
house,  American  style.  The  town  itself  is  one  of 
unpretentious,  comfortable  houses,  some  of  them  with 
elegant  interiors,  having  plenty  of  books  and  the  spoils 
of  foreign  travel.  In  one  of  them,  the  old-fashioned 
but  entirely  charming  mansion  of  Governor  Fairchild, 
I  cannot  refrain  from  saying,  is  a  collection  which,  so 
far  as  I  know,  is  unique  in  the  world — a  collection  to 
which  the  helmet  of  Don  Quixote  gives  a  certain  fla 
vor;  it  is  of  barbers'  basins,  of  all  ages  and  countries. 

Wisconsin  is  working  out  its  educational  ideas  on 
an  intelligent  system,  and  one  that  may  be  expected 
to  demonstrate  the  full  value  of  the  popular  method 
— I  mean  a  more  intimate  connection  of  the  univer 
sity  with  the  life  of  the  people  than  exists  elsewhere. 
What  effect  this  will  have  upon  the  higher  education 
in  the  ultimate  civilization  of  the  State  is  a  question 
of  serious  and  curious  interest.  Unless  the  experience 
of  the  ages  is  misleading,  the  tendency  of  the  "  prac 
tical"  in  all  education  is  a  downward  and  material 
one,  and  the  highest  civilization  must  continue  to  de 
pend  upon  a  pure  scholarship,  and  upon  what  are 
called  abstract  ideas.  Even  so  practical  a  man  as 
Socrates  found  the  natural  sciences  inadequate  to  the 
inner  needs  of  the  soul.  "  I  thought,"  he  says,  "  as  I 
have  failed  in  the  contemplation  of  true  existence  (by 
means  of  the  sciences),  I  ought  to  be  careful  that  I 
did  not  lose  the  eye  of  the  soul,  as  people  may  injure 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  163 

their  bodily  eye  by  gazing  on  the  sun  during  an  eclipse. 
. . .  That  occurred  to  me,  and  I  was  afraid  that  my  soul 
might  be  blinded  altogether  if  I  looked  at  things  with 
my  eyes,  or  tried  by  the  help  of  the  senses  to  appre 
hend  them.  And  I  thought  I  had  better  have  re 
course  to  ideas,  and  seek  in  them  the  truth  of  exist 
ence."  The  intimate  union  of  the  university  with  the 
life  of  the  people  is  a  most  desirable  object,  if  the  uni 
versity  does  not  descend  and  lose  its  high  character  in 
the  process. 

The  graded  school  system  of  the  State  is  vigorous, 
all  working  up  to  the  University.  This  is  a  State  in 
stitution,  and  the  State  is  fairly  liberal  to  it,  so  far  as 
practical  education  is  concerned.  It  has  a  magnificent 
new  Science  building,  and  will  have  excellent  shops 
and  machinery  for  the  sciences  (especially  the  applied) 
and  the  mechanic  arts.  The  system  is  elective.  A 
small  per  cent,  of  the  students  take  Greek,  a  larger 
number  Latin,  French,  and  German,  but  the  Univer 
sity  is  largely  devoted  to  science.  In  all  the  depart 
ments,  including  law,  there  are  about  six  hundred  stu 
dents,  of  whom  above  one  hundred  are  girls.  There 
seems  to  be  no  doubt  about  co-education  as  a  prac 
tical  matter  in  the  conduct  of  the  college,  and  as  a 
desirable  thing  for  women.  The  girls  are  good  stu 
dents,  and  usually  take  more  than  half  the  highest 
honors  on  the  marking  scale.  Notwithstanding  the 
testimony  of  the  marks,  however,  the  boys  say  that 
the  girls  don't  "know"  as  much  as  they  do  about 
things  generally,  and  they  (the  boys)  have  no  doubt 
of  their  ability  to  pass  the  girls  either  in  scholarship 
or  practical  affairs  in  the  struggle  of  life.  The  idea 
seems  to  be  that  the  girls  are  serious  in  education 


164  South  and  West. 

only  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  that  marriage  will 
practically  end  the  rivalry. 

The  distinguishing  thing,  however,  about  the  State 
University  is  its  vital  connection  with  the  farmers 
and  the  agricultural  interests.  I  do  not  refer  to  the 
agricultural  department,  which  it  has  in  common  with 
many  colleges,  nor  to  the  special  short  agricultural 
course  of  three  months  in  the  winter,  intended  to  give 
farmers'  boys,  who  enter  it  without  examination  or 
other  connection  with  the  University,  the  most  availa 
ble  agricultural  information  in  the  briefest  time,  the 
intention  being  not  to  educate  boys  away  from  a  taste 
for  farming  but  to  make  them  better  farmers.  The 
students  must  be  not  less  than  sixteen  years  old,  and 
have  a  common-school  education.  During  the  term 
of  twelve  weeks  they  have  lectures  by  the  professors 
and  recitations  on  practical  and  theoretical  agricult 
ure,  on  elementary  and  agricultural  chemistry,  on  ele 
mental  botany,  with  laboratory  practice,  and  on  the 
anatomy  of  our  domestic  animals  and  the  treatment 
of  their  common  diseases.  But  what  I  wish  to  call 
special  attention  to  is  the  connection  of  the  Univer 
sity  with  the  farmers'  institutes. 

A  special  Act  of  the  Legislature,  drawn  by  a  lawyer, 
Mr.  C.  E.  Estabrook,  authorized  the  farmers'  institutes, 
and  placed  them  under  the  control  of  the  regents  of 
the  University,  who  have  the  power  to  select  a  State 
superintendent  to  control  them.  A  committee  of  three 
of  the  regents  has  special  charge  of  the  institutes. 
Thus  the  farmers  are  brought  into  direct  relation 
with  the  University,  and  while,  as  a  prospectus  says, 
they  are  not  actually  non-resident  students  of  the  Uni 
versity,  they  receive  information  and  instruction  di- 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  165 

rectly  from  it.  Tlie  State  appropriates  twelve  thou 
sand  dollars  a  year  to  this  work,  which  pays  the  sal 
aries  of  Mr.  W.  H.  Morrison,  the  superintendent,  to 
whose  tact  and  energy  the  success  of  the  institutes 
is  largely  due,  and  his  assistants,  and  enables  him  to 
pay  the  expenses  of  specialists  and  agriculturists  who 
can  instruct  the  farmers  and  wisely  direct  the  discus 
sions  at  the  meetings.  By  reason  of  this  complete  or 
ganization,  which  penetrates  every  part  of  the  State, 
subjects  of  most  advantage  are  considered,  and  time 
is  not  wasted  in  merely  amateur  debates. 

I  know  of  no  other  State  where  a  like  system  of 
popular  instruction  on  a  vital  and  universal  interest 
of  the  State,  directed  by  the  highest  educational  au 
thority,  is  so  perfectly  organized  and  carried  on  with 
such  unity  of  purpose  and  detail  of  administration  ; 
no  other  in  which  the  farmer  is  brought  systematically 
into  such  direct  relations  to  the  university.  In  the 
current  year  there  have  been  held  eighty-two  farmers' 
institutes  in  forty-five  counties.  The  list  of  practical 
topics  discussed  is  279,  and  in  this  service  have  been 
engaged  one  hundred  and  seven  workers,  thirty-one 
of  whom  are  specialists  from  other  States.  This  is 
an  "agricultural  college,"  on  a  grand  scale,  brought 
to  the  homes  of  the  people.  The  meetings  are  man 
aged  by  local  committees  in  such  a  way  as  to  evoke 
local  pride,  interest,  and  talent.  I  will  mention  some 
of  the  topics  that  were  thoroughly  discussed  at  one 
of  the  institutes  :  clover  as  a  fertilizer  ;  recuperative 
agriculture  ;  bee-keeping  ;  taking  care  of  the  little 
things  about  the  house  and  farm  ;  the  education  for 
farmers'  daughters  ;  the  whole  economy  of  sheep 
husbandry;  egg  production  ;  poultry  ;  the  value  of 


166  South  and  West. 

thought  and  application  in  farming  ;  horses  to  breed 
for  the  farm  and  market ;  breeding  and  management 
of  swine  ;  mixed  farming  ;  grain-raising  ;  assessment 
and  collection  of  taxes  ;  does  knowledge  pay  ?  (with 
illustrations  of  money  made  by  knowledge  of  the 
market) ;  breeding  and  care  of  cattle,  with  expert 
testimony  as  to  the  best  sorts  of  cows  ;  points  in 
corn  culture  ;  full  discussion  of  small-fruit  culture  ; 
butter-making  as  a  fine  art ;  the  dairy ;  our  country 
roads;  agricultural  education.  So,  during  the  winter, 
every  topic  that  concerns  the  well-being  of  the  home, 
the  profit  of  the  farm,  the  moral  welfare  of  the  peo 
ple  and  their  prosperity,  was  intelligently  discussed, 
with  audiences  fully  awake  to  the  value  of  this  prac 
tical  and  applied  education.  Some  of  the  best  of 
these  discussions  are  printed  and  widely  distributed. 
Most  of  them  are  full  of  wise  details  in  the  way  of 
thrift  and  money-making,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  that 
the  meetings  also  consider  the  truth  that  as  much 
care  should  be  given  to  the  rearing  of  boys  and  girls 
as  of  calves  and  colts,  and  that  brains  are  as  necessary 
in  farming  as  in  any  other  occupation. 

As  these  farmers'  institutes  are  conducted,  I  do  not 
know  any  influence  comparable  to  them  in  waking  up 
the  farmers  to  think,  to  inquire  into  new  and  im 
proved  methods,  and  to  see  in  what  real  prosperity 
consists.  With  prosperity,  as  a  rule,  the  farmer  and 
his  family  are  conservative,  law-keeping,  church-going, 
good  citizens.  The  little  appropriation  of  twelve 
thousand  dollars  has  already  returned  to  the  State  a 
hundred-fold  financially  and  a  thousand-fold  in  general 
intelligence. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  habit  in  Minnesota  and  Wis- 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  167 

consin  of  depending  mostly  upon  one  crop — that  of 
spring  wheat — and  the  disasters  from  this  single  re 
liance  in  bad  years.  Hard  lessons  are  beginning  to 
teach  the  advantage  of  mixed  farming  and  stock- 
raising,  In  this  change  the  farmers'  institutes  of 
Wisconsin  have  been  potent.  As  one  observer  says, 
"They  have  produced  a  revolution  in  the  mode  of 
farming,  raising  crops,  and  caring  for  stock."  The 
farmers  have  been  enabled  to  protect  themselves 
against  the  effects  of  drought  and  other  evils.  Tak 
ing  the  advice  of  the  institute  in  1886,  the  farmers 
planted  50,000  acres  of  ensilage  corn,  which  took  the 
place  of  the  short  hay  crop  caused  by  the  drought. 
This  provision  saved  thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of 
stock  in  several  counties.  From  all  over  the  State 
comes  the  testimony  of  farmers  as  to  the  good  results 
of  the  institute  work,  like  this:  "Several  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  improved  stock  have  been  brought 
in.  Creameries  and  cheese-factories  have  been  estab 
lished  and  well  supported.  Farmers  are  no  longer 
raising  grain  exclusively  as  heretofore.  Our  hill-sides 
are  covered  with  clover.  Our  farmers  are  encouraged 
to  labor  anew.  A  new  era  of  prosperity  in  our  State 
dates  from  the  farmers'  institutes." 

There  is  abundant  evidence  that  a  revolution  is  go 
ing  on  in  the  farming  of  Wisconsin,  greatly  assisted, 
if  not  inaugurated,  by  this  systematic  popular  instruc 
tion  from  the  University  as  a  centre.  It  may  not 
greatly  interest  the  reader  that  the  result  of  this  will 
be  greater  agricultural  wealth  in  Wisconsin,  but  it 
does  concern  him  that  putting  intelligence  into  farm 
ing  must  inevitably  raise  the  level  of  the  home  life 
and  the  general  civilization  of  Wisconsin.  I  have 


168  South  and  West. 

spoken  of  this  centralized,  systematic  effort  in  some 
detail  because  it  seems  more  efficient  than  the  work 
of  agricultural  societies  and  sporadic  institutes  in 
other  States. 

In  another  matter  Wisconsin  has  taken  a  step  iu 
advance  of  other  States  ;  that  is,  in  the  care  of  the 
insane.  The  State  has  about  2600  insane,  increasing 
at  the  rate  of  about  167  a  year.  The  provisions  in 
the  State  for  these  are  the  State  Hospital  (capacity  of 
500),  Northern  Hospital  (capacity  of  600),  the  Mil 
waukee  Asylum  (capacity  of  255),  and  fifteen  county 
asylums  for  the  chronic  insane,  including  two  nearly 
ready  (capacity  1220).  The  improvement  in  the  care 
of  the  insane  consists  in  several  particulars — the  do 
ing  away  of  restraints,  either  by  mechanical  appli 
ances  or  by  narcotics,  reasonable  separation  of  the 
chronic  cases  from  the  others,  increased  liberty,  and 
the  substitution  of  wholesome  labor  for  idleness. 
Many  of  these  changes  have  been  brought  about  by 
the  establishment  of  county  asylums,  the  feature  of 
which  I  wish  specially  to  speak.  The  State  asylums 
were  crowded  beyond  their  proper  capacity,  classifi 
cation  was  difficult  in  them,  and  a  large  number  of 
the  insane  were  miserably  housed  in  county  jails  and 
poor-houses.  The  evils  of  great  establishments  were 
more  and  more  apparent,  and  it  was  determined  to 
try  the  experiment  of  county  asylums.  These  have 
now  been  in  operation  for  six  years,  and  a  word  about 
their  constitution  and  perfectly  successful  operation 
may  be  of  public  service. 

These  asylums,  which  are  only  for  the  chronic  in 
sane,  are  managed  by  local  authorities,  but  under  con 
stant  and  close  State  supervision;  this  last  provision 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  169 

is  absolutely  essential,  and  no  doubt  accounts  for  the 
success  of  the  undertaking.  It  is  not  necessary  here 
to  enter  into  details  as  to  the  construction  of  these 
buildings.  They  are  of  brick,  solid,  plain,  comforta 
ble,  and  of  a  size  to  accommodate  not  less  than  fifty 
nor  more  than  one  hundred  inmates :  an  institution 
with  less  than  fifty  is  not  economical;  one  with  a 
larger  number  than  one  hundred  is  unwieldy,  and  be 
yond  the  personal  supervision  of  the  superintendent. 
A  farm  is  needed  for  economy  in  maintenance  and  to 
furnish  occupation  for  the  men;  about  four  acres  for 
each  inmate  is  a  fair  allowance.  The  land  should  be 
fertile,  and  adapted  to  a  variety  of  crops  as  well  as  to 
cattle,  and  it  should  have  woodland  to  give  occupation 
in  the  winter.  The  fact  is  recognized  that  idleness  is 
no  better  for  an  insane  than  for  a  sane  person.  The 
house-work  is  all  done  by  the  women;  the  farm,  gar 
den,  and  general  out-door  work  by  the  men.  Expe 
rience  shows  that  three-fourths  of  the  chronic  insane 
can  be  furnished  occupation  of  some  sort,  and  greatly 
to  their  physical  and  moral  well-being.  The  nervous 
ness  incident  always  to  restraint  and  idleness  disap 
pears  with  liberty  and  occupation.  Hence  greater 
happiness  and  comfort  to  the  insane,  and  occasionally 
a  complete  or  partial  cure. 

About  one  attendant  to  twenty  insane  persons  is 
sufficient,  but  it  is  necessary  that  these  should  have 
intelligence  and  tact;  the  men  capable  of  leading  in 
farm-work,  the  women  to  instruct  in  house-work  and 
dress-making,  and  it  is  well  if  they  can  play  some 
musical  instrument  and  direct  in  amusements.  One 
of  the  most  encouraging  features  of  this  experiment 
in  small  asylums  has  been  the  discovery  of  so  many 


170  South  and  West. 

efficient  superintendents  and  matrons  among  the  in 
telligent  farmers  and  business  men  of  the  rural  dis 
tricts,  who  have  the  practical  sagacity  and  financial 
ability  to  carry  on  these  institutions  successfully. 

These  asylums  are  as  open  as  a  school;  no  locked 
doors  (instead  of  window-bars,  the  glass-frames  are 
of  iron  painted  white),  no  pens  made  by  high  fences. 
The  inmates  are  free  to  go  and  come  at  their  work, 
with  no  other  restraint  than  the  watch  of  the  attend 
ants.  The  asylum  is  a  home  and  not  a  prison.  The 
great  thing  is  to  provide  occupation.  The  insane,  it 
is  found,  can  be  trained  to  regular  industry,  and  it  is 
remarkable  how  little  restraint  is  needed  if  an  earnest 
effort  is  made  to  do  without  it.  In  the  county  asy 
lums  of  Wisconsin  about  one  person  in  a  thousand  is 
in  restraint  or  seclusion  each  day.  The  whole  theory 
seems  to  be  to  treat  the  insane  like  persons  in  some 
way  diseased,  who  need  occupation,  amusement,  kind 
ness.  The  practice  of  this  theory  in  the  Wisconsin 
county  asylums  is  so  successful  that  it  must  ultimate 
ly  affect  the  treatment  of  the  insane  all  over  the 
country. 

And  the  beauty  of  it  is  that  it  is  as  economical  as 
it  is  enlightened  and  humane.  The  secret  of  provid 
ing  occupation  for  this  class  is  to  buy  as  little  material 
and  hire  as  little  labor  as  possible  ;  let  the  women 
make  the  clothes,  and  the  men  do  the  farm  -  work 
without  the  aid  of  machinery.  The  surprising  result 
of  this  is  that  some  of  these  asylums  approach  the 
point  of  being  self-supporting,  and  all  of  them  save 
money  to  the  counties,  compared  with  the  old  method. 
The  State  has  not  lost  by  these  asylums,  and  the 
counties  have  gained  ;  nor  has  the  economy  been  pur- 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  171 

chased  at  the  expense  of  humanity  to  the  insane ;  the 
insane  in  the  county  asylums  have  been  as  well  clothed, 
lodged,  and  fed  as  in  the  State  institutions,  and  have 
had  more  freedom,  and  consequently  more  personal 
comfort  and  a  better  chance  of  abating  their  mania. 
This  is  the  result  arrived  at  by  an  exhaustive  report 
on  these  county  asylums  in  the  report  of  the  State 
Board  of  Charities  and  Reforms,  of  which  Mr.  Albert 
O.  Wright  is  secretary.  The  average  cost  per  week 
per  capita  of  patients  in  the  asylums  by  the  latest  re 
port  was,  in  the  State  Hospital,  $4.39;  in  the  North 
ern  Hospital,  $4.33;  in  the  county  asylums,  $1.89. 

The  new  system  considers  the  education  of  the 
chronic  insane  an  important  part  of  their  treatment ; 
not  specially  book-learning  (though  that  may  be  in 
cluded),  but  training  of  the  mental,  moral,  and  phys 
ical  faculties  in  habits  of  order,  propriety,  and  labor. 
By  these  means  wonders  have  been  worked  for  the  in 
sane.  The  danger,  of  course,  is  that  the  local  asylums 
may  fall  into  unproductive  routine,  and  that  politics 
will  interfere  with  the  intelligent  State  supervision. 
If  Wisconsin  is  able  to  keep  her  State  institutions  out 
of  the  clutches  of  men  with  whom  politics  is  a  busi 
ness  simply  for  what  they  can  make  out  of  it  (as  it  is 
with  those  who  oppose  a  civil  service  not  based  upon 
partisan  dexterity  and  subserviency),  she  will  carry 
her  enlightened  ideas  into  the  making  of  a  model 
State.  The  working  out  of  such  a  noble  reform  as 
this  in  the  treatment  of  the  insane  can  only  be  in 
trusted  to  men  specially  qualified  by  knowledge,  sym 
pathy,  and  enthusiasm,  and  would  be  impossible  in 
the  hands  of  changing  political  workers.  The  sys 
tematized  enlightenment  of  the  farmers  in  the  farmers' 


172  South  and  West. 

institutes  by  means  of  their  vital  connection  with  the 
University  needs  the  steady  direction  of  those  who  are 
devoted  to  it,  and  not  to  any  party  success.  As  to 
education  generally,  it  may  be  said  that  while  for  the 
present  the  popular  favor  to  the  State  University  de 
pends  upon  its  being  "practical"  in  this  and  other 
ways,  the  time  will  come  when  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
highest  service  it  can  render  the  State  is  by  upholding 
pure  scholarship,  without  the  least  material  object. 

Another  institution  of  which  Winconsin  has  reason 
to  be  proud  is  the  State  Historical  Society — a  corpo 
ration  (dating  from  1853)  with  perpetual  succession, 
supported  by  an  annual  appropriation  of  five  thousand 
dollars,  with  provisions  for  printing  the  reports  of  the 
society  and  the  catalogues  of  the  library.  It  is  housed 
in  the  Capitol.  The  society  has  accumulated  inter 
esting  historical  portraits,  cabinets  of  antiquities,  nat 
ural  history,  and  curiosities,  a  collection  of  copper, 
and  some  valuable  MSS.  for  the  library.  The  library 
is  one  of  the  best  historical  collections  in  the  country. 
The  excellence  of  it  is  largely  due  to  Lyman  C.  Dra 
per,  LL.D.,  who  was  its  secretary  for  thirty -three 
years,  but  who  began  as  early  as  1834  to  gather  facts 
and  materials  for  border  history  and  biography,  and 
who  had  in  1852  accumulated  thousands  of  manu 
scripts  and  historical  statements,  the  nucleus  of  the 
present  splendid  library,  which  embraces  rare  and  val 
uable  works  relating  to  the  history  of  nearly  every 
State.  This  material  is  arranged  by  States,  and  read 
ily  accessible  to  the  student.  Indeed,  there  are  few 
historical  libraries  in  the  country  where  historical  re 
search  in  American  subjects  can  be  better  prosecuted 
than  in  this.  The  library  began  in  January,  1854, 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  173 

with  fifty  volumes.  In  January,  1887,  it  had  57,935 
volumes  and  60,731  pamphlets  and  documents,  making 
a  total  of  118,666  titles. 

There  is  a  large  law  library  in  the  State-house,  the 
University  has  a  fair  special  library  for  the  students, 
and  in  the  city  is  a  good  public  circulating  library, 
free,  supported  by  a  tax,  and  much  used.  For  a  young 
city,  it  is  therefore  very  well  off  for  books. 

Madison  is  not  only  an  educational  centre,  but  an 
intelligent  city;  the  people  read  and  no  doubt  buy 
books,  but  they  do  not  support  book  -  stores.  The 
shops  where  books  are  sold  are  variety  -  shops,  deal 
ing  in  stationery,  artists'  materials,  cheap  pictures, 
bric-a-brac.  Books  are  of  minor  importance,  and  but 
few  are  "  kept  in  stock."  Indeed,  bookselling  is  not 
a  profitable  part  of  the  business;  it  does  not  pay  to 
"  handle  "  books,  or  to  keep  the  run  of  new  publica 
tions,  or  to  keep  a  supply  of  standard  works.  In  this 
the  shops  of  Madison  are  not  peculiar.  It  is  true  all 
over  the  West,  except  in  two  or  three  large  cities,  and 
true,  perhaps,  not  quite  so  generally  in  the  East;  the 
book-shops  are  not  the  literary  and  intellectual  centres 
they  used  to  be. 

There  are  several  reasons  given  for  this  discour 
aging  state  of  the  book-trade.  Perhaps  it  is  true  that 
people  accustomed  to  newspapers  full  of  "  selections," 
to  the  flimsy  publications  found  on  the  cheap  count 
ers,  and  to  the  magazines,  do  not  buy  "  books  that  are 
books,"  except  for  "  furnishing  ;"  that  they  depend 
more  and  more  upon  the  circulating  libraries  for  any 
thing  that  costs  more  than  an  imported  cigar  or  half 
a  pound  of  candy.  The  local  dealers  say  that  the 
system  of  the  great  publishing  houses  is  unsatlsfacto- 


174  South  and  West. 

ry  as  to  prices  and  discounts.  Private  persons  can 
get  the  same  discounts  as  the  dealers,  and  can  very 
likely,  by  ordering  a  list,  buy  more  cheaply  than  of 
the  local  bookseller,  and  therefore,  as  a  matter  of  busi 
ness,  he  says  that  it  does  not  pay  to  keep  books  ;  he 
gives  up  trying  to  sell  them,  and  turns  his  attention 
to  "  varieties."  Another  reason  for  the  decline  in  the 
trade  may  be  in  the  fact  that  comparatively  few  book 
sellers  are  men  of  taste  in  letters,  men  who  read,  or 
keep  the  run  of  new  publications.  If  a  retail  grocer 
knew  no  more  of  his  business  than  many  booksellers 
know  of  theirs,  he  would  certainly  fail.  It  is  a  pity 
on  all  accounts  that  the  book-trade  is  in  this  condition. 
A  bookseller  in  any  community,  if  he  is  a  man  of  lit 
erary  culture,  and  has  a  love  of  books  and  knowledge 
of  them,  can  do  a  great  deal  for  the  cultivation  of  the 
public  taste.  His  shop  becomes  a  sort  of  intellectual 
centre  of  the  town.  If  the  public  find  there  an  at 
mosphere  of  books,  and  are  likely  to  have  their  wants 
met  for  publications  new  or  rare,  they  will  generally 
sustain  the  shop;  at  least  this  is  my  observation.  Still, 
I  should  not  like  to  attempt  to  say  whether  the  falling 
off  in  the  retail  book- trade  is  due  to  want  of  skill  in 
the  sellers,  to  the  publishing  machinery,  or  to  public 
indifference.  The  subject  is  worthy  the  attention  of 
experts.  It  is  undeniably  important  to  maintain  ev 
erywhere  these  little  depots  of  intellectual  supply.  In 
a  town  new  to  him  the  visitor  is  apt  to  estimate  the 
taste,  the  culture,  the  refinement,  as  well  as  the  wealth 
of  the  town,  by  its  shops.  The  stock  in  the  dry  goods 
and  fancy  stores  tells  one  thing,  that  in  the  art-stores 
another  thing,  that  in  the  book-stores  another  thing, 
about  the  inhabitants.  The  West,  even  on  the  remote 


Economic  and  Social  Topics.  175 

frontiers,  is  full  of  magnificent  stores  of  goods,  telling 
of  taste  as  well  as  luxury ;  the  book  -  shops  are  the 
poorest  of  all. 

The  impression  of  the  North-west,  thus  far  seen,  is 
that  of  tremendous  energy,  material  refinement,  much 
open  -  mindedness,  considerable  self  -  appreciation,  un 
common  sagacity  in  meeting  new  problems,  generous 
hospitality,  the  Old  Testament  notion  of  possessing 
this  world,  rather  more  recognition  of  the  pecuniary 
as  the  only  success  than  exists  in  the  East  and  South, 
intense  national  enthusiasm,  and  unblushing  and  most 
welcome  "Americanism." 

In  these  sketchy  observations  on  the  North-west 
nothing  has  seemed  to  me  more  interesting  and  im 
portant  than  the  agricultural  changes  going  on  in 
eastern  Dakota,  Minnesota,  and  Wisconsin.  In  the 
vast  wheat  farms,  as  well  as  in  the  vast  cattle  ranges, 
there  is  an  element  of  speculation,  if  not  of  gambling, 
of  the  chance  of  immense  profits  or  of  considerable 
loss,  that  is  neither  conducive  to  the  stable  prosperity 
nor  to  the  moral  soundness  of  a  State.  In  the  break 
ing  up  of  the  great  farms,  and  in  the  introduction  of 
varied  agriculture  and  cattle-raising  on  a  small  scale, 
there  will  not  be  so  many  great  fortunes  made,  but 
each  State  will  be  richer  as  a  whole,  and  less  liable  to 
yearly  fluctuations  in  prosperity.  But  the  gain  most 
worth  considering  will  be  in  the  home  life  and  the 
character  of  the  citizens.  The  best  life  of  any  com 
munity  depends  upon  varied  industries.  No  part  of 
the  United  States  has  ever  prospered,  as  regards  the 
well-being  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  that  relied  upon 
the  production  of  a  single  staple. 


IX. 
CHICAGO. 

[JFfrst  3.9ajper.] 

CHICAGO  is  becoming  modest.  Perhaps  the  inhab 
itants  may  still  be  able  to  conceal  their  modesty,  but 
nevertheless  they  feel  it.  The  explanation  is  simple. 
The  city  has  grown  not  only  beyond  the  most  san 
guine  expectations  of  those  who  indulged  in  the  most 
inflated  hope  of  its  future,  but  it  has  grown  beyond 
what  they  said  they  expected.  This  gives  the  citi 
zens  pause — as  it  might  an  eagle  that  laid  a  roc's  egg. 

The  fact  is,  Chicago  has  become  an  independent 
organism,  growing  by  a  combination  of  forces  and  op 
portunities,  beyond  the  contrivance  of  any  combination 
of  men  to  help  or  hinder,  beyond  the  need  of  flaming 
circulars  and  reports  of  boards  of  trade,  and  process 
pictures.  It  has  passed  the  danger  or  the  fear  of 
rivalry,  and  reached  the  point  where  the  growth  of 
any  other  portion  of  the  great  North-west,  or  of  any 
city  in  it  (whatever  rivalry  that  city  may  show  in  in 
dustries  or  in  commerce),  is  in  some  way  a  contribu 
tion  to  the  power  and  wealth  of  Chicago.  To  them 
that  have  shall  be  given.  Cities,  under  favoring  con 
ditions  for  local  expansion,  which  reach  a  certain 
amount  of  population  and  wealth,  grow  by  a  kind  of 
natural  increment,  the  law  of  attraction,  very  well 
known  in  human  nature,  which  draws  a  person  to  an 


Chicago.  177 

active  city  of  two  hundred  thousand  rather  than  to  a 
stagnant  city  of  one  hundred  thousand.  And  it  is  a 
fortunate  thing  for  civilization  that  this  attraction  is 
almost  as  strong  to  men  of  letters  as  it  is  to  men  of 
affairs.  Chicago  has,  it  seems  to  me,  only  recently 
turned  this  point  of  assured  expansion,  and,  as  I  in 
timated,  the  inhabitants  have  hardly  yet  become  ac 
customed  to  this  idea  ;  but  I  believe  that  the  time  is 
near  when  they  will  be  as  indifferent  to  what  stran 
gers  think  of  Chicago  as  the  New-Yorkers  are  to  what 
strangers  think  of  New  York.  New  York  is  to-day 
the  only  American  city  free  from  this  anxious  note 
of  provincialism — though  in  Boston  it  rather  takes 
the  form  of  pity  for  the  unenlightened  man  who 
doubts  its  superiority  ;  but  the  impartial  student  of 
Chicago  to-day  can  see  plenty  of  signs  of  the  sure 
growth  of  this  metropolitan  indifference.  And  yet 
there  is  still  here  enough  of  the  old  Chicago  stamp  to 
make  the  place  interesting. 

It  is  everything  in  getting  a  point  of  view.  Last 
summer  a  lady  of  New  Orleans  who  had  never  before 
been  out  of  her  native  French  city,  and  who  would 
look  upon  the  whole  North  with  the  impartial  eyes  of 
a  foreigner — and  more  than  that,  with  Continental 
eyes  —  visited  Chicago,  and  afterwards  New  York. 
"Which  city  did  you  like  best?"  I  asked,  without 
taking  myself  seriously  in  the  question.  To  my  sur 
prise,  she  hesitated.  This  hesitation  was  fatal  to  all 
my  preconceived  notions.  It  mattered  not  thereafter 
which  she  preferred  :  she  had  hesitated.  She  was 
actually  comparing  Chicago  to  New  York  in  her  mind, 
as  one  might  compare  Paris  and  London.  The  au 
dacity  of  the  comparison  I  saw  was  excused  by  its  in- 
12 


178  South,  and  West. 

nocence.  I  confess  that  it  had  never  occurred  to  me 
to  think  of  Chicago  in  that  Continental  light.  "  Well," 
she  said,  not  seeing  at  all  the  humor  of  my  remark, 
"  Chicago  seems  to  me  to  have  finer  buildings  and 
residences,  to  be  the  more  beautiful  city  ;  but  of 
course  there  is  more  in  New  York  ;  it  is  a  greater 
city  ;  and  I  should  prefer  to  live  there  for  what  I 
want."  This  na'ive  observation  set  me  thinking,  and 
I  wondered  if  there  was  a  point  of  view,  say  that  of 
divine  omniscience  And  fairness,  in  which  Chicago 
would  appear  as  one  of  the  great  cities  of  the  world, 
in  fact  a  metropolis,  by-and-by  to  rival  in  population 
and  wealth  any  city  of  the  seaboard.  It  has  certainly 
better  commercial  advantages,  so  far  as  water  com 
munication  and  railways  go,  than  Paris  or  Pekin  or 
Berlin,  and  a  territory  to  supply  and  receive  from  in 
finitely  vaster,  richer,  and  more  promising  than  either. 
This  territory  will  have  many  big  cities,  but  in  the 
nature  of  things  only  one  of  surpassing  importance. 
And  taking  into  account  its  geographical  position — a 
thousand  miles  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard  on  the 
one  side,  and  from  the  mountains  on  the  other,  with 
the  acknowledged  tendency  of  people  and  of  money 
to  it  as  a  continental  centre — it  seems  to  me  that  Chi 
cago  is  to  be  that  one. 

The  growth  of  Chicago  is  one  of  the  marvels  of  the 
world.  I  do  not  wonder  that  it  is  incomprehensible 
even  to  those  who  have  seen  it  year  by  year.  As  I 
remember  it  in  1860,  it  was  one  of  the  shabbiest  and 
most  unattractive  cities  of  about  a  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants  anywhere  to  be  found  ;  but  even  then  it 
had  more  than  trebled  its  size  in  ten  years ;  the 
streets  were  mud  sloughs,  the  sidewalks  were  a  series 


Chicago.  179 

of  stairs  and  more  or  less  rotten  planks,  half  the  town 
was  in  process  of  elevation  above  the  tadpole  level, 
and  a  considerable  part  of  it  was  on  wheels — the  mov 
ing  house  being  about  the  only  wheeled  vehicle  that 
could  get  around  with  any  comfort  to  the  passengers. 
The  west  side  was  a  straggling  shanty  -  town,  the 
north  side  was  a  country  village  with  two  or  three 
"  aristocratic  "  houses  occupying  a  square,  the  south 
side  had  not  a  handsome  business  building  in  it,  nor  a 
public  edifice  of  any  merit  except  a  couple  of  churches, 
but  there  were  a  few  pleasant  residences  on  Michigan 
Avenue  fronting  the  encroaching  lake,  and  on  Wa- 
bash  Avenue.  Yet  I  am  not  sure  that  even  then  the 
exceedingly  busy  and  excited  traders  and  speculators 
did  not  feel  that  the  town  was  more  important  than 
New  York.  For  it  had  a  great  business.  Aside  from 
its  real  estate  operations,  its  trade  that  year  was  set 
down  at  $97,000,000,  embracing  its  dealing  in  prod 
uce,  its  wholesale  supply  business,  and  its  manufact 
uring. 

No  one  then,  however,  would  have  dared  to  pre 
dict  that  the  value  of  trade  in  1887  would  be,  as  it 
was,  $1,103,000,000.  Nor  could  any  one  have  believed 
that  the  population  of  100,000  would  reach  in  1887 
nearly  800,000  (estimated  782,644),  likely  to  reach  in 
1888,  with  the  annexation  of  contiguous  villages  that 
have  become  physically  a  part  of  the  city,  the  amount 
of  900,000.  Growing  at  its  usual  rate  for  several 
years  past,  the  city  is  certain  in  a  couple  of  years  to 
count  its  million  of  people.  And  there  is  not  prob 
ably  anywhere  congregated  a  more  active  and  ag 
gressive  million,  with  so  great  a  proportion  of  young, 
ambitious  blood.  Other  figures  keep  pace  with  those 


180  South  and  West. 

of  trade  and  population.  I  will  mention  only  one  or 
two  of  them  here.  The  national  banks,  in  1887,  had 
a  capital  of  $15,800,000,  in  which  the  deposits  were 
$80,473,746,  the  loans  and  discounts  $63,113,821,  the 
surplus  and  profits  $6,320,559.  The  First  National  is, 
I  believe,  the  second  or  third  largest  banking  house  in 
the  country,  having  a  deposit  account  of  over  twenty- 
two  millions.  The  figures  given  only  include  the  na 
tional  banks;  add  to  these  the  private  banks,  and  the 
deposits  of  Chicago  in  1887  were  $105,367,000.  The 
aggregate  bank  clearings  of  the  city  were  $2,969,216,- 
210.60,  an  increase  of  14  per  cent,  over  1886.  It  should 
be  noted  that  there  were  only  twenty-one  banks  in  the 
clearing  house  (with  an  aggregate  capital  and  surplus 
of  $28,514,000),  and  that  the  fewer  the  banks  the  small 
er  the  total  clearings  will  be.  The  aggregate  Board  of 
Trade  clearings  for  1887  were  $78,179,869.  In  the  year 
1886  Chicago  imported  merchandise  entered  for  con 
sumption  to  the  value  of  $11,574,449,  and  paid  $4,349,- 
237  duties  on  it.  I  did  not  intend  to  go  into  statistics, 
but  these  and  a  few  other  figures  will  give  some  idea 
of  the  volume  of  business  in  this  new  city.  I  found 
on  inquiry  that — owing  to  legislation  that  need  not 
be  gone  into — there  are  few  savings-banks,  and  the 
visible  savings  of  labor  cut  a  small  figure  in  this  way. 
The  explanation  is  that  there  are  several  important 
loan  and  building  associations.  Money  is  received  on 
deposit  in  small  amounts,  and  loaned  at  a  good  rate 
of  interest  to  those  wishing  to  build  or  buy  houses, 
the  latter  paying  in  small  instalments.  The  result  is 
that  these  loan  institutions  have  been  very  profitable 
to  those  who  have  put  money  in  them,  and  that  the 
laborers  who  have  borrowed  to  build  have  also  been 


Chicago.  181 

benefited  by  putting  all  their  savings  into  houses.  I 
believe  there  is  no  other  large  city,  except  Philadel 
phia  perhaps,  where  so  large  .a  proportion  of  the  in 
habitants  own  the  houses  they  live  in.  There  is  no 
better  prevention  of  the  spread  of  anarchical  notions 
and  communist  foolishness  than  this. 

It  is  an  item  of  interest  that  the  wholesale  dry- 
goods  jobbing  establishments  increased  their  business 
in  1887  12^  per  cent,  over  1886.  Five  houses  have  a 
capital  of  89,000,000,  and  the  sales  in  1887  were  near 
ly  $74,000,000.  And  it  is  worth  special  mention  that 
one  man  in  Chicago,  Marshall  Field,  is  the  largest 
wholesale  and  retail  dry-goods  merchant  in  the  world. 
In  his  retail  shop  and  wholesale  store  there  are  3000 
employes  on  the  pay-roll.  As  to  being  first  in  his 
specialty,  the  same  may  be  said  of  Philip  D.  Armour, 
who  not  only  distances  all  rivals  in  the  world  as  a 
packer,  but  no  doubt  also  as  a  merchant  of  such  prod 
ucts  as  the  hog  contributes  to  the  support  of  life.  His 
sales  in  one  year  have  been  over  $51,000,000.  The  city 
has  also  the  distinction  of  having  among  its  citizens 
Henry  W.  King,  the  largest  dealer,  in  establishments 
here  and  elsewhere,  in  clothing  in  the  world. 

In  nothing  has  the  growth  of  Chicago  been  more 
marked  in  the  past  five  years  than  in  manufactures. 
I  cannot  go  into  the  details  of  all  the  products,  but 
the  totals  of  manufacture  for  1887  were,  in  2396  firms, 
$113,960,000  capital  employed,  134,615  workers,  874,- 
567,000  paid  in  wages,  and  the  value  of  the  product 
was  8403,109,500 — an  increase  of  product  over  1886  of 
about  15^  per  cent.  A  surprising  item  in  this  is  the 
book  and  publishing  business.  The  increase  of  sales  of 
books  in  1887  over  1886  was  20  per  cent.  The  whole- 


182  South  and  West. 

sale  sales  for  1887  are  estimated  at  $10,000,000.  It 
is  now  claimed  that  as  a  book-publishing  centre  Chi 
cago  ranks  second  only  to  New  York,  and  that  in  the 
issue  of  subscription -books  it  does  more  business  than 
ISTew  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia  combined.  In  re 
gard  to  musical  instruments  the  statement  is  not  less 
surprising.  In  1887  the  sales  of  pianos  amounted  to 
about  $2,600,000— a  gain  of  $300,000  over  1886.  My 
authority  for  this,  and  for  some,  but  not  all,  of  the 
other  figures  given,  is  the  Tribune,  which  says  that 
Chicago  is  not  only  the  largest  reed-organ  market  in 
the  world,  but  that  more  organs  are  manufactured 
here  than  in  any  other  city  in  Europe  or  America. 
The  sales  for  1887  were  $2,000,000 — an  increase  over 
1886  of  $500,000.  There  were  $1,000,000  worth  of 
small  musical  instruments  sold,  and  of  sheet  music 
and  music-books  a  total  of  $450,000.  This  speaks 
well  for  the  cultivation  of  musical  taste  in  the  West, 
especially  as  there  was  a  marked  improvement  in  the 
class  of  the  music  bought. 

The  product  of  the  iron  manufactures  in  1887,  in 
cluding  rolling-mills  ($23,952,000)  and  founderies  ($10,- 
000,000),  was  $61,187,000  against  $46,790,000  in  1886, 
and  the  wages  paid  in  iron  and  steel  work  was  $14,- 
899,000.  In  1887  there  were  erected  4833  buildings, 
at  a  reported  cost  of  $19,778,100 — a  few  more  build 
ings,  but  yet  at  nearly  two  millions  less  cost,  than  in 
1886.  A  couple  of  items  interested  me:  that  Chica 
go  made  in  1887  $900,000  worth  of  toys  and  $500,000 
worth  of  perfumes.  The  soap-makers  waged  a  gal 
lant  but  entirely  unsuccessful  war  against  the  soot  and 
smoke  of  the  town  in  producing  $6,250,000  worth  of 
soap  and  candles.  I  do  not  see  it  mentioned,  but  I 


Chicago.  183 

should  think  the  laundry  business  in  Chicago  would 
be  the  most  profitable  one  at  present. 

Without  attempting  at  all  to  set  forth  the  business 
of  Chicago  in  detail,  a  few  more  figures  will  help  to 
indicate  its  volume.  At  the  beginning  of  1887  the 
storage  capacity  for  grain  in  29  elevators  was  27,025,- 
000  bushels.  The  total  receipts  of  flour  and  grain  in 
1882,  '3,  '4,  '5,  and  '6,  in  bushels,  were  respectively, 
126,155,483,  164,924,732,  159,561,474,  156,408,228, 
151,932,995.  In  1887  the  receipts  in  bushels  were: 
flour,  6,873,544;  wheat,  21,848,251 ;  corn,  51,578,410; 
oats,  45,750,842;  rye,  852,726;  barley,  12,476,547— 
total,  139,380,320.  It  is  useless  to  go  into  details  of 
the  meat  products,  but  interesting  to  know  that  in 
1886  Chicago  shipped  310,039,600  pounds  of  lard  and 
573,496,012  pounds  of  dressed  beef. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  amount  of  the  lake  com 
merce,  the  railway  traffic  (nearly  50,000  miles  tribu 
tary  to  the  city)  making  so  much  more  show.  In 
1882  the  tonnage  of  vessels  clearing  this  port  was 
4,904,999;  in  1886  it  was  3,950,762.  The  report  of 
the  Board  of  Trade  for  1886  says  the  arrivals  and 
clearances,  foreign  and  coastwise,  for  this  port  for 
the  year  ending  June  30th  were  22,096,  which  was 
869  more  than  at  the  ports  of  Baltimore,  Boston,  New 
Orleans,  Philadelphia,  Portland  and  Falmouth,  and  San 
Francisco  combined;  315  more  than  at  New  York, New 
Orleans,  Portland  and  Falmouth,  and  San  Francisco; 
and  100  more  than  at  New  York,  Baltimore,  and  Port 
land  and  Falmouth.  It  will  not  be  overlooked  that 
this  lake  commerce  is  training  a  race  of  hardy  sailors, 
who  would  come  to  the  front  in  case  of  a  naval  war, 
though  they  might  have  to  go  out  on  rafts. 


184:  South  and  West. 

In  1888  Chicago  is  a  magnificent  city.  Although 
it  has  been  incorporated  fifty  years,  during  which  pe 
riod  its  accession  of  population  has  been  rapid  and 
steady — hardly  checked  by  the  devastating  fires  of 
1871  and  1874 — its  metropolitan  character  and  appear 
ance  is  the  work  of  less  than  fifteen  years.  There  is 
in  history  no  parallel  to  this  product  of  a  freely  act 
ing  democracy:  not  St.  Petersburg  rising  out  of  the 
marshes  at  an  imperial  edict,  nor  Berlin,  the  magic 
creation  of  a  consolidated  empire  and  a  Caesar's  pow 
er.  The  north-side  village  has  become  a  city  of  broad 
streets,  running  northward  to  the  parks,  lined  with 
handsome  residences  interspersed  with  stately  man 
sions  of  most  varied  and  agreeable  architecture,  mar 
red  by  very  little  that  is  bizarre  and  pretentious — a 
region  of  churches  and  club-houses  and  public  build 
ings  of  importance.  The  west  side,  the  largest  sec 
tion,  and  containing  more  population  than  the  other 
two  divisions  combined,  stretching  out  over  the  prai 
rie  to  a  horizon  fringed  with  villages,  expanding  in 
three  directions,  is  more  mediocre  in  buildings,  but  im 
pressive  in  its  vastness;  and  the  stranger  driving  out 
the  stately  avenue  of  Washington  some  four  miles  to 
Garfield  Park  will  be  astonished  by  the  evidences  of 
wealth  and  the  vigor  of  the  city  expansion. 

But  it  is  the  business  portion  of  the  south  side  that 
is  the  miracle  of  the  time,  the  solid  creation  of  ener 
gy  and  capital  since  the  fire — the  square  mile  contain 
ing  the  Post-office  and  City  Hall,  the  giant  hotels,  the 
opera-houses  and  theatres,  the  Board  of  Trade  build 
ing,  the  many-storied  offices,  the  great  shops,  the  club 
houses,  the  vast  retail  and  wholesale  warehouses.  This 
area  has  the  advantage  of  some  other  great  business 


Chicago.  185 

centres  in  having  broad  streets  at  right  angles,  but 
with  all  this  openness  for  movement,  the  throng  of 
passengers  and  traffic,  the  intersecting  street  and  cable 
railways,  the  loads  of  freight  and  the  crush  of  car 
riages,  the  life  and  hurry  and  excitement  are  sufficient 
to  satisfy  the  most  eager  lover  of  metropolitan  pande 
monium.  Unfortunately  for  a  clear  comprehension  of 
it,  the  manufactories  vomit  dense  clouds  of  bitumi 
nous  coal  smoke,  which  settle  in  a  black  mass  in  this 
part  of  the  town,  so  that  one  can  scarcely  see  across 
the  streets  in  a  damp  day,  and  the  huge  buildings  loom 
up  in  the  black  sky  in  ghostly  dimness.  The  climate 
of  Chicago,  though  some  ten  degrees  warmer  than  the 
average  of  its  immediately  tributary  territory,  is  a 
harsh  one,  and  in  the  short  winter  days  the  centre  of 
the  city  is  not  only  black,  but  damp  and  chilly.  In 
some  of  the  November  and  December  days  I  could 
without  any  stretch  of  the  imagination  fancy  myself  in 
London.  On  a  Sunday,  when  business  gives  place  to 
amusement  and  religion,  the  stately  city  is  seen  in  all 
its  fine  proportions.  No  other  city  in  the  Union  can 
show  business  warehouses  and  offices  of  more  archi 
tectural  nobility.  The  mind  inevitably  goes  to  Flor 
ence  for  comparison  with  the  structures  of  the  Medi- 
cean  merchant  princes.  One  might  name  the  Pullman 
Building  for  offices  as  an  example,  and  the  wholesale 
warehouse  of  Marshall  Field,  the  work  of  that  truly 
original  American  architect,  Richardson,  which  in  mas- 
siveness,  simplicity  of  lines,  and  admirable  blending  of 
artistic  beauty  with  adaptability  to  its  purpose,  seems 
to  me  unrivalled  in  this  country.  A  few  of  these  build 
ings  are  exceptions  to  the  general  style  of  architect 
ure,  which  is  only  good  of  its  utilitarian  American 


